


heavydirty

by personalized_radio



Category: Bandom, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Animal Abuse, Bandom Big Bang 2017, Harassment, M/M, Stalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2019-01-16 01:35:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 33,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12332832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/personalized_radio/pseuds/personalized_radio
Summary: Josh and Tyler have just moved into a new neighborhood when Josh gets a big break and has to leave on tour. Home alone, Tyler begins to notice a few odd things.Ft. Panic! at the coffee shop, Bob the well-meaning co-worker, Josh the long-distance-but-in-love boyfriend, and a very naive Tyler.





	heavydirty

**Author's Note:**

> HOLY SHIT GUYS!!!! ITS DONE
> 
> [HERE](https://slashfanatic22.dreamwidth.org/450.html) is the playlist and write-up done by the amazing [Slashfanatic22!!!](http://archiveofourown.org/users/slashfanatic22/pseuds/slashfanatic22)
> 
> The write-up is VERY spoiler-heavy, but I love it and IM SO GLAD THAT YOU CREATED SUCH A COOL THING FOR MY FIC!!!!
> 
> thanks to the bbb mods!!! You guys work so hard to make this happen every year and its honestly amazing <3

It was a nice house, Tyler had to admit. He wasn’t happy about it, but at least it was a nice house.

“Come on,” Josh nudged him, “You liked it two months ago.”

“I didn’t know I’d be unpacking and settling everything in on my own two months ago,” Tyler grumbled, but he still nudged Josh back and accepted the box being handed to him.

It was inspired by the Victorian buildings on the nicer side of town, kind of; powder blue dulled to gray, narrow and tall with two floors and a small attic barely big enough for Tyler to stand straight in but wide enough that he could easily fit a few boxes and still have enough space to stretch out in. There was a window set back, leading onto the roof over the porch and letting sunlight into the attic, but it had been painted shut sometime between when the house was built in the sixties and when Josh had flagged the realtor down to have her open the doors for them. To top it off, it had a _turret_. Tyler had had no idea what a _turret_ was, until the realtor had explained that that was what the circular tower thing that made up a small sitting room on the second floor was. There were _columns_ , too, between the three tall windows - so many _windows_ \- and the _porch_ , with a fence and everything. The porch at their old apartment had just been a slab of concrete outside of the sliding patio door with a gate around it, but this one, one of Tyler’s favorite parts, was wide with small white column posts starting from the side of the house and wrapping around until it got to the stairs leading up to the wood, which were also covered by a sick triangle with some freaky wooden designs that Josh adored when they’d first seen them, supported by _more_ columns. Windows and columns, the whole house, and Tyler loved it. The kitchen had been modernized about five years ago and the master bedroom was big with a walk in closet. The weirdest part was the attic entrance, which was located in the ceiling of said closet, but Tyler figured neither of them would be hanging in there enough to worry about a hanging string.

Tyler had been ecstatic to move in with Josh and start their life together in their first house. They’d been making plans for the first week - what rooms they were going to unpack (bedroom first, kitchen next, the rest can fuck off) and Tyler had been resigned to putting getting their living space situation aside to focus on christening every room in the place and sleeping so he had energy for work.

Two weeks ago, Josh had been hired as the drummer for some solo pop star in need of a band and their plans had fallen through.

“I’ll be back soon,” Josh smiled, “Maybe you’ll be done with being angry by the time I’m back and we can take that week, huh?”

“Yeah, whatever,” Tyler tried to keep the annoyed look, but then Josh was in his face, kissing his forehead and making him smile against his will. “Three months isn’t _soon_ ,”

“But I’ll be in the country the _whole time_ ,” Josh smiled wider, “No international charges, probably stable internet, no dead phones because I can’t find an outlet that works for American chargers,”

“Maybe,” Tyler gave in, letting Josh stack another box in his arms before he started for the front door. They had to get the U-haul in by eight and, while the movers had already moved all of their heavy shit, there were a lot of boxes of this-and-thats’ to be emptied from the trailer.

Josh had left the front door open so Tyler balanced his way up the three stairs leading to the porch - _a porch!_ \- and through the door into the kitchen, dropping his load onto the counter so he could read the labels. He pushed the ‘kitchen’ box farther back on the counter so Josh would have room to set his own boxes down and took the ‘living room’ box across the hall and into its rightful place - the couch.

He bumped into Josh in the hallway, both of his boxes heading for the living room, and they moved around each other easily - long used to how they moved together in small places after sharing a one bedroom apartment for the last two years.

By the time the trailer was empty and all of the boxes were in their proper rooms - and fuck, Tyler had severely underestimated how steep those fucking stairs were - the clock was nearing seven-thirty and they still needed to make the bed if they wanted to get any amount of decent sleep tonight.

“Damn it,” Josh wiped the sweat from his forehead with his shirt and Tyler kept his eyes resolutely on the fine china Josh’s mother had forced upon them when she’d heard they would be moving, unpacking it slowly and carefully placing it in one of the high counters that they would never be able to reach without the assistance of the chair under his feet, “They’re gonna charge us a fuckload if we don’t get that trailer back in time,”

“You’re a faster driver,” Tyler looked down from his high vantage point, once he was sure Josh’s shirt was not exposing any more skin than usual, “Get the trailer back to them and I’ll finish unpacking the essentials.”

“You sure?” Josh grabbed the keys off the counter, glancing around at the house, “Ty, you get scared being in the apartment alone. You’ll be okay in a new house?”

“Fuck you.” Tyler finished stacking the china in the cabinet and closed the doors, hopping off the chair so he could talk without raising his voice, “It isn’t like the place is haunted, jackass. You’ll be gone twenty minutes, I think I’ll manage.”

“Just checking,” Josh smiled again, cheeky and cute enough for Tyler to immediately deflate. That Josh’s smile had such an effect on him was a constant source of frustration - until Josh smiled at him and the frustration went away. “Twenty minutes and then...”

He was suddenly in Tyler’s face again except this time it wasn’t a forehead kiss, but a real one - lips to lips and Tyler being pinned to the counter and kissed until he could barely breathe, Josh’s arms on either side of him, strong enough to break him in half probably, and there went the last of what little breath Tyler had in his lungs.

When Josh stepped away, they were both breathing hard and Tyler wasn’t sure how the clock had moved from seven-twenty-seven to seven-thirty-nine, but he had an idea.

“And then, we can do more of that.”

“You,” He pushed at Josh’s shoulders until Josh stepped back, blinking just as slowly as Tyler, as if he’d been just as entranced, “Are a menace. Go get them that trailer.”

“Yes, sir,” Josh saluted and grabbed Tyler’s favorite hoodie, shrugging it on and zipping up, “Do the bedroom stuff first, okay?”

Tyler didn’t answer because he didn’t want to admit that he’d already been planning to, anyway.

Still, when Josh pulled out of the driveway, Tyler was sure to flick the lock on the door and check the backdoor in the laundry room, too. Maybe he’d fronted, just a little, about being fine alone.

He just didn’t _like_ being alone was the thing, especially not in new places. And sure, this new place was also his new home but it was still _new_.

The locks were enough to make him feel secure, for the moment, so he went back to unpacking the plates and bowls, spoons and knives and forks. He’d get to the bedroom after he emptied the box and then, when Josh came home and they’d truly exhausted themselves, he’d remind him that their apartment hadn’t held nearly enough things to fill a house this size and they needed to go shopping or _something_ to get the place to not look so _empty_.

He’d reached the bottom of the box, placed all of the dishes in one empty cabinet, all of the cups in another, all of the cutlery in a drawer by the sink, and was folding up the box before he could head upstairs when he heard the knock. Once, just quiet enough that he felt like he’d almost imagined it, against the wood of the front door.

He froze, listened hard. His lungs stopped moving, his heart slowed. Tyler, he’d learned over his twenty-four years of life, did not have a fight-or-flight reaction, but a flight-or-freeze instead. Much like a deer, a frightened Tyler Joseph would not move a muscle until the threat had been discovered and understood.

The threat, it turned out, was two more - harder - knocks on the front door.

“Um,” a voice called, muffled through the thick wood, “Hello?”

Tyler unfroze, cleared his throat and rubbed his face, and then unlocked the door and tilted it open. The hinges squealed a little - Tyler made a mental note to throw some WD-40 on those when he had the chance - before his eyes adjusted to the setting-sun-brightness of the outside world and he took in the strange man standing in the doorstep.

“Hi,” Tyler waved awkwardly, “Sorry about that, I was waist deep in a box,”

“Oh, saw the trailer!” The man, tinfoil covered dish in hand, laughed, “It’s pretty late but my wife always wanted me to make sure I got this to new neighbors while it was still hot!”

“Oh, gosh,” Tyler accepted the dish - a _pie_ , holy _shit_ , what kind of neighborhood _was this_ \- “Thanks, man, I don’t...have anything to give you in return.”

“No worries!” The man - tall, a little older, a warm smile and kind eyes, thin but muscled  - waved his words off, “It’s a welcome gift! We liked to make sure that new people feel like they’re a part of the community. My wife and I used to live in this house, actually,” He winked, “The second to the top step squeaks, so watch out for that if you’re ever home. The missus - or, um, the mister in your case - always caught me redhanded when I was trying to sneak in!”

Tyler laughed, pulling the pie closer and leaning against the door, relaxing against it, “Thanks for the tip, man. I’m Tyler, by the way. My mister is Josh.”

“The name’s Byron,” Byron offered his hand, eyes brightening - or maybe it was a trick of the kitchen light flickering behind Tyler - “If you ever need anything, I’m just a few houses down the line, the pink one,”

Tyler took his hand, balanced the pie on his free one, and shook firmly, “Thanks, Byron, this is really nice of you.”

“Oh no, no,” Byron smiled wider, “It’s my pleasure, Tyler.”

He didn’t let go until Tyler tugged his hand free gently.

“Well,” Tyler hesitated, “I should get back to unpacking. Thanks again for stopping by, Byron.”

“Of course! I hope you come to enjoy the place,” Byron looked around fondly, “It holds good memories. Good vibes, you know?”

“Yeah,” Tyler glanced over his shoulder, the dimly lit kitchen half filled with boxes and the unpacked knickknacks he and Josh had collected over the years, “Yeah, I feel it.”

“Good,” Byron stepped back, out of the doorway and into the darkness that the setting sun had left behind while they’d been speaking, “See you around, Tyler,”

“See you,” Tyler nodded and then shut the door and locked it. He set the pie on the counter then thought better of it and put it in the fridge. They’d both had dinner earlier, before they’d even come to the house, and he didn’t plan on leaving Josh alone long enough to eat _pie_ of all things.

By the time Josh got home, the bed had been made - though nothing else had been unpacked - and all thoughts of the pie and the neighbors were chased from Tyler’s mind.

-

“Are you _sure_ you have to go?” Tyler tried to stop his voice from rising in pitch, going whiny, “Can’t you cancel?”

“You know I can’t,” Josh shook his head, but he pulled Tyler into a tight hug. Tyler hugged back, squeezed him hard. Josh left pretty often; days at a time, for small tours but this was _three_ _months_. A quarter of a year!

“I know,” Tyler gave in, slumping into the embrace. Josh had to leave, soon, but Tyler didn’t want to let go. Josh didn’t either.

“I’ll text you tonight, okay?”

“I’ll be waiting,” Tyler promised and forced himself to step away. The house was still mostly packed and he had work tomorrow at the café - he had a lot of work ahead of him, really. But that was for future-Tyler to worry about. Present-Tyler was walking his boyfriend to the car he’d rented to get him to bus call so he could sadly watch him drive away like some sort of RomCom character.  

Josh slid into the driver’s seat and started the car, but didn’t pull out.

“We’re being stupid,” He decided, smiling.

“Yeah,” Tyler agreed, but he still leaned into the rolled-down window so they could share another kiss. Softer than the ones shared last night. Sadder. “You’re my best friend, Josh.”

“Don’t make me cry,” Josh shoved at his face, pushed him out of the car playfully, “The guys are gonna bust my balls for being mopey all tour already, I don’t need to show up in tears on the first day.”

Tyler laughed, letting himself be pushed, “Okay, okay, get going before you’re late. I love you, okay?”

“I love you,” Josh almost reached back for him and then forced his hands onto the wheel and put the car in reverse, “I’ll text you,”

“You said,” Tyler stepped away from the car, crossing his arms, “Have a great time, okay? Party like it’s 1999,”

“Oh my god,” Josh shook his head, “I’m in love with a fucking nerd,”

“Same,” Tyler shrugged and Josh pulled out of the driveway laughing.

Tyler watched the car disappear, leaving him alone with his own car and the neighborhood cat that had appeared that morning. Josh had fed it, of course, so Tyler was resigned to eventually adopting it.

“Well, Mr. Meow,” Tyler kneeled and the ginger cat waddled over from where he’d stationed himself on the steps of the front door, pudgy from being fed by so many members of the neighborhood but not clean enough to belong to any of them, “Looks like it’s just us, huh?”

Mr. Meow - Josh’s name, not Tyler’s - gave a _mwrr_ in response and Tyler scratched his head for a few seconds before he turned to go back inside.

Byron was there, standing by the columns supporting the roof above the stairs, smiling.

Tyler jumped hard enough that Mr. Meow hissed and bolted for the bushes in front of the house, disappearing under deep green foliage.

“Tyler!” Byron waved, as if he hadn’t just given Tyler a heart attack, “Hey!”

“Hey, Byron,” Tyler waved back, standing up quickly, “You scared the heck out of me, man,”

Byron chuckled, dropping his hand to make his way over, “Your mister going off for a while?”

“Tour,” Tyler nodded, “He’s got a great opportunity so he should take it, it’s just…”

“Long time?” Byron offered and Tyler nodded, “Ah, young love. My wife and I, we used to be like that! I remember it like it was yesterday.”

Tyler couldn’t help but smile, “You two have been together that long?”

“We were highschool sweethearts,” Byron crouched and clicked his tongue, offering his hand to the bush, “This cat...Doesn’t like a soul in the whole place,” He shook his head, “Can’t get enough of the scraps we give ‘em though.”

“Huh,” Tyler shifted, “Seemed friendly enough this morning. Maybe it was just Josh. He’s got a way with animals.”

Byron nodded and stood up, giving in to the obvious fact that Mr. Meow would not be coming near him, “Well, you know what they say about cats,”

“What’s that?” Tyler raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t trust ‘em,” Byron laughed and, not knowing what else to do, Tyler laughed along.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Tyler shoved his hands in his pockets, “I gotta get back inside now, though, Byron. ‘Lotta stuff left to unpack, you know,”

“Sure, sure,” Byron nodded, but didn’t move, “Hey, if you have any trouble with anything, just let me know. I know this place like the back of my hand so I can show you a few tricks that could save you a time or two,”

“Oh, thanks,” Tyler didn’t think he’d be calling Byron up on that, but it was nice of him to offer in the first place, “I’ll remember that,”

Byron tilted his head in acknowledgment and Tyler took that as his cue to exit the conversation, moving past Byron to get up the steps and into the house.

“Hey, Tyler!” Byron called, stopping him just before he’d closed the door.

“Yeah?” He stopped, just his head poking out of the house.

“How was the pie?”

 _Oh_ , Tyler blinked. He’d completely forgotten about the pie. It set, cold and untouched, in their fridge. Not wanting to be rude, he smiled, “It was delicious, man! We really appreciated it!”

“Great,” Byron pretended to wipe sweat from his brow, laughing again, “It’s the first time I’ve made it on my own! It’s my wife’s recipe but I thought I could handle it! Glad you liked it!”

Tyler waved and then shut and locked the door. He had a lot of unpacking to do, some intense missing-his-boyfriend to try to avoid, and some sappy texts to compose and then delete without sending.

-

“Josh is gone,” He sighed, for what felt like the twentieth time since he’d clocked in two hours ago.

“So I’ve heard, today and yesterday and the day before.” Bob said, not looking up from the foam he was drawing in. Bob was the only one with a hand steady enough to toothpick any sort of designs into drinks for regulars and Tyler didn’t want to ruin his work so he stopped talking until Bob had finished his leaf and handed the cup off with a gruff, “That’ll be five-sixty-two, ma’am.”

Bob finished up with that customer, the last in line, while Tyler went back to mourning the loss of the love of his life and cleaning the cappuccino machine.

“He won’t be back for _months_ , Bob,” Tyler whined once she’d disappeared to her usual place, “And now I’m _alone_ and I have to unpack this _huge house_ and I won’t even have anyone there to _help_ ,”

“What the fuck are you talking about,” Bob turned to give him an unimpressed look, “Tyler, Brendon _and_ Jon are both at your house _right now_ , unpacking for you.”

“Well, yeah,” Tyler lowered his voice, grumbled, “But they aren’t _Josh_.”

“You’re being a baby,” Bob decided, “Stop whining and finish cleaning the machine.”

“You’re cold, Bryar,” Tyler frowned at him, trying to look as pitiful as possible, “I’ve lost the sunshine in my heart and you just care about the machine,”

“If you want to explain that to Spencer when he comes down for his shift, be my guest,”

“...You _suck_.” Tyler went back to cleaning the machine.

The shop was quiet, a lull between morning coffee stops and lunch breaks leaving the place empty aside from the lady Bob had served sitting in the far corner with a book from the shelves in her lap and her mug on the side table next to her chair. It was only ten-thirty, so they had about half an hour before the first wave of hungry workers swooped in and Tyler took the time to restock the cups and make sure they were covered on cream and milk while Bob restocked the bakery window. Their first customer of the rush - at eleven-fifty-seven - was, surprisingly, Byron.

“Tyler!” He paused, surprised, at the register, “I didn’t know you worked here!”

“Yeah,” Tyler nodded, a little surprised, “I’ve, uh, been here for about three years. Is this your first visit?”

“Oh, no,” Byron shook his head, “I usually hit the place around dinner time on days I get off early. I’m a top manager over at the Payless. You must work the morning shifts, huh?”

“Usually,” Tyler smiled and turned the conversation back to business, “What can I get you?”

“Large black coffee, please,” Byron handed him a five, “Keep the change,”

“Thanks,” Tyler made change and stuffed it into the tip jar, “That’ll be just a second. I’m brewing a fresh pot now.”

“I’ll just be over there,” Byron motioned to the waiting area and Tyler nodded, already turning away to bustle about getting the coffee ready. He stood by the pot with a large cup, filled it to the brim when the pot was full and capped it with practiced movements, slipping a protective sleeve over it afterward and walked it over to the waiting area.

“Here ya’ go!” He handed the cup over, Byron’s fingers brushing against his for an uncomfortably long amount of time when he took it from Tyler’s grip. He pulled his hand back as soon as the drink was safely in Byron’s, shoving his fists into the pockets of his aprons and rocking back on his heels with a _customers are here_ smile, “Anything else I can do for you?”

“No, no,” Byron shook his head, still smiling as widely as when he’d walked in, “What a coincidence that we ran into each other, though! My hours at work just shifted so I guess we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other, huh?”

“Ha, yeah,” Tyler laughed awkwardly, “Well, I gotta get back to work. Lunch rush is soon, Bob’ll throw a fit if I keep slacking.”

“Sure, sure,” Byron waved him off, “See you later, Tyler,”

“See ya’,” Tyler nodded and then turned on his heels and tried to look busy.

He waited until the bell above the door had dinged before he looked over his shoulder and made sure Byron was really gone.

“What was that about?” Bob frowned, “Who was that guy?”

“New neighbor,” Tyler sighed, shaking himself out, “He’s nice, don’t worry. I’ve just seen him every day since we moved in. Literally every day. It’s a little creepy.”

“What, you think he’s stalking you?” Bob scoffed and Tyler flushed.

“Shut up,” He grumbled, “No, I don’t think he’s _stalking_ me, I just said it’s a little creepy, is all.”

Bob chuckled, deep and low. “I was just teasing, Joseph. If he creeps you out, let me know and I’ll switch up your shifts so you don’t have to see him, okay?”

“....Thanks, Bob,” Tyler ducked his head to hide his smile and Bob squeezed his shoulder as he walked past.

The lunch rush hit a few minutes later and they were swamped for the rest of Tyler’s shift, nearly four hours of a constant stream of people that had Bob and Tyler both moving behind the counter without time for much talking aside from barking orders between the two of them. By the time the lunch rush had faded into the pre-night shift lull, Tyler had forgotten about his discomfort and was more focused on the pain in his feet and the burn on his thumb he’d got sometime between three and four.

“Good job, Ty,” Spencer, who had replaced Bob about an hour ago, gave him a thumbs up, “You can head out, okay? Ryan’s due to be down in an hour.”

“Great,” Tyler stretched, untied the apron from around his waist and hung it on the rack by the register. “Bden and Jon are staying with me tonight, but I promise to have them back with me when I start my shift tomorrow. Hopefully.”

Spencer laughed, nodding, “Make sure they actually _help_ you and don’t just eat everything in your kitchen while you’re unpacking.”

Tyler gave him a thumbs up in return and grabbed his bag from under the counter, slinging it over his shoulder before he got to the door, “See you tomorrow, Spence.”  
“Good luck,” Spencer called after, the end of his sentence muffled by the closing door.

Panic!, Spencer and Ryan’s café, was located about half a mile away from the new house when he cut through the alleys and neighborhoods - one of the reasons he and Josh had picked it - in a small strip mall. Next door was a indie record store and on the other side of that was a market specializing in imported Indian goods that Tyler liked to browse for new things he’d never tried before when it was his turn to cook. Across the street were a few clothing stores on either side of the Payless that brought most people into the area and a corner store at the entrance to the mall proper.

He’d walked to work that morning, his preferred method of travel now that they were living with a driveway on an incline and pulling the car out ran the risk of taking out his mailbox, and he regretted it when he looked up at the sky and saw the dark clouds. The world had turned dim and gray, despite the sun that morning and the summer nights not falling until around eight, so he pulled Josh’s hoodie closer to his body and pulled the hood on before he started walking.

The alleys between the cafe and the house were dark with the sky so cloudy, gave off a gloomy and not-so-welcoming feel when he looked at them. He wanted to get home fast, though, and avoid being splashed by puddles under speeding cars, to be honest. He did keep his earbuds out, because growing up in Columbus meant he knew better than to block out the world when he was on the streets, and instead listened to his footsteps echoing, the slap of his converse against concrete. It started to rain somewhere between his entering an alley between an apartment complex and a carpet store and him exiting into a neighborhood a few blocks from home, and he hesitated before he stepped out from under the awning of the apartment complex, his foot inches from the ground.

The slap of a shoe against concrete echoed around him dully, but didn’t continue. The world went quiet except for the sound of heavy rainfall. His foot still hovered, frozen. A deer caught in the headlights. He dropped his foot, so slowly that no sound echoed, and listened hard for anything behind him. The hair on the back of his neck prickled. He heard shifting - of clothes, maybe. No one called out from behind him, no more sound followed his movements but he knew what he’d heard.

He took the step into the rain, hurried across the street and to the opposite sidewalk, eyes straight ahead.

 _Don’t look back_ , he thought to himself. Instead, he pulled out his phone and speed-dialed Josh, putting the phone up to his ear.

“Ty?” Josh answered, distracted, “Hey, babe, I’m kind of in the middle of something,”

“Hey, Josh!” He said, much louder than necessary, “I’m just down the road, yeah! We’re still meeting up at home, right?”

“What’s going on?” Josh lost the distracted note in his voice, all at once alert. “Are you okay?”

“Fine, fine,” Tyler laughed loudly, “Just walking home, I’m right around the corner.”

Tyler side-eyed the mouth of the alley, where a shadowy figure was standing just out of the light, face obscured by a hood similar to Tyler’s.

“Ty, you’re scaring me.” Josh must have moved because the noisy din in the background went away. “Do I need to call the police?”

“No, hey, give me a sec, babe,” Tyler watched the alley until it was out of sight and then he took off running, fast and hard, his phone clutched tight in his hand. He heard footsteps behind him, out of step with his own, trying to catch up, so he ran even harder, like his life depended on it. For all he knew, it did.

He skidded around two corners, tripping and scraping his hand, nearly cracking his phone on the second, and then his house was in sight between two of the houses on the road he’d turned onto - his car in the driveway with a familiar Moped parked next to it. He could still hear the running steps behind him so he didn’t slow when the house came into view, instead loping across the street without looking both ways and slip-sliding through wet grass and mud, nearly face-planting into a tree that he just barely managed to avoid ramming into at full speed. He reached his porch and didn’t bother looking behind him, just tried the handle and shoved the door open when it gave easily, unlocked.

He slammed it shut behind him, flicked the lock and back against the kitchen counter, gasping for air between the sprinting and the anxiety choking him.

“ _Tyler_!” A voice - Josh’s voice, tinny and small, coming out of his phone, finally caught his attention.

He brought it to his face, still trying to catch his breath, “ _Josh,_ ”

“What happened? Are you okay? Are you home? Are Brendon and Jon there?”

“Someone - I was, I was walking, I just got off work and I was just _walking_ and someone was - they were _following me_ , Josh, they -”

“Tyler?” Another voice, familiar, called, “Tyler, what the hell, are you okay!?”

“Brendon,” Tyler slumped, relief making his knees buckle, “Thank _God_.”

“Someone was following you?” Josh cut in, “Ty, are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

“N-no,” Tyler shook his head, stepping into the embrace when Brendon hurried to his side and wrapped his arms around him, “No, I just, I called you to scare them off and it didn’t work so I ran.”

“Babe,” Josh said and his voice was soft, worried, “Fuck, I’m gonna come home.”

“No!” Tyler shot up from his slump in Brendon’s arms, “No, Josh, really, I’m okay, I’m okay. I’m fine, just a little shaken.”

“And wet,” Jon added, tugging at Tyler’s sleeves until he let him pull Josh’s hoodie off.

“Don’t worry, Josh,” Brendon called into the phone, “We’ll make sure he’s okay.”

“Are you sure?” Josh asked, “I can leave right now, Ty. I’m still in the state, I can be back by tomorrow morning.”

“No,” Tyler shook his head, like Josh could see it, and held the phone to his face, cradled it, closed his eyes and pretended Josh was there and not hours away, “No, I’m okay. I was just spooked. To tell the truth, I only saw someone in an alley. I probably just imagined the whole fuckin’ thing, okay? You know how paranoid I get.”

Josh hesitated, “...If you’re _sure_. I’m going to text you after the show tonight, okay? To check in.”

“I’ll be here,” Tyler promised, smiling a little, finally beginning to come down from the adrenaline. “Good luck, babe.”

“Thanks,” Josh sighed, and there was a smile in his voice too, “Love you, yeah?”

“Love you,” Tyler responded, eyes still closed.

Neither of them hung up for a few seconds longer, until there was a knocking from Josh’s side of the line and someone called his name.

“I gotta go,” He muttered, nearly a whisper.

“Bye,” Tyler swallowed, held himself together and waited until the line was dead and he’d set down the phone before he collapsed back into Brendon’s arms.

Jon was at the window, Josh’s wet hoodie folder of his arms, peaking through the blinds.

“No one’s in the street, Ty,” He called over his shoulder, “Just one of your neighbors getting his mail with an umbrella.”

“Maybe I did imagine it,” Tyler bit his lip and set on the stool at the island, shivered as warmth began to seep into his skin. Brendon rubbed his arms roughly for a few seconds to warm him up and set on the stool next to him.

“Better safe than sorry,” He said firmly, “You did good, Ty. You wanna sit and relax a little? Jon and I started unpacking the guest room, mostly. We stuck a lot of the decorations your mom handed over in the attic, too.”

“And we set your instruments up in the sitting room-nook thing,” Jon mentioned, turning away from the window.

“The _turret_ ,” Tyler smiled, “You left the piano in the living room, though, right?”

“Please,” Brendon scoffed, “Who do you think I am? Of course we did.”

“You guys are the best,” Tyler shook his head, “Leave Ryncer, join Josh and I. Be our platonic poly boyfriends.”

“If you can pry us from Ryan’s cold, spidery hands,” Jon teased, ruffling Tyler’s short hair as he passed by to get to the kettle, which he filled with water from the sink and set to boil on the stove. “I’ll make some coffee, go take a shower and get some dry clothes on and then we’ll talk where you want to start unpacking what we didn't.”

“I just need to finish the master bedroom and the TV set up, I think.” Tyler stood up, shivering in the cool air of the room now that his body was back to a normal enough temperature for him to notice it. “Thanks for doing this, guys. I’d be here all week if I’d had to unpack on my own.”

“What are friends for, huh?” Jon winked and Tyler took that as his cue to leave, up the stairs and to the master bath.

It was a nice bathroom for a nice house, and he liked it. The clawfoot tub was big enough for two and so was the shower, a little more modern than the tub with a tiled floor and a frosted door,two sinks against the back wall and the toilet set aside in a smaller room with a door. He turned the water on in the shower and stripped down. He noticed the open window blinds just before he removed his boxers and, feeling spooked, made sure to close them properly before he got completely naked and stepped under the spray.

He felt better after the shower, clean and removed from the chill of the rain. Usually, he loved rain. He liked standing in it, tilting his face up and tasting droplets, breathing in the scent of it, Josh a warm presence at his side. Today, it had chilled him to the bone and left a lurking sense of dread and anxiety in his core.

He dressed in his fuzziest clothes - some pajama pants with prints of Looney Toons on them and a big sweater he may or may not have stolen from his brother at some point - before he made his way back downstairs - skipping the second to top stair - where a mug of hot chocolate was waiting for him.

“Thanks, Jon.” He toasted him and took a sip, humming happily at the taste. “This is good!”

“Spencer’s recipe,” Brendon licked his chocolate mustache off. “Anyway, you set to get to work?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tyler took another gulp, the hot chocolate warm enough to heat his insides up but not so hot that he couldn’t drink it quickly. “Okay, so you said the guest room was unpacked?”

“Just needs organizing,” Jon nodded.

They went over what Jon and Brendon had unpacked for him while he’d been at work and then Jon started unloading the living room knickknacks while he and Brendon finished up the guest room organization and made adjustments to the music room that Tyler had turned the _turret_ into.

By the time they were finished, most everything had been unpacked or stored in the attic and Tyler was exhausted. Even Brendon, usually cheerful and full of energy, was nodding off against Jon’s shoulder.

“And we’re done!” Tyler clapped his hands for emphasis, “All moved in.”

“It’s still so empty.” Jon wrinkled his nose, “You need more records, man.”

“Don’t we all,” Brendon yawned. “But let’s go to bed before we go record shopping, huh?”

“That works for me,” Tyler stretched, blinking tiredly. “You guys know your way to the guest bedroom and you’re welcome to everything in the kitchen. I promised I’d drag your asses back to the cafe tomorrow during my shift though, so we’re out of here by ten-thirty.”

“Promises, promises,” Jon laughed, putting their now clean mugs away for the night. “Good night, Tyler.”

“Night, guys,” Tyler waved at them, hiding a yawn behind a fist as he turned from the kitchen to head back upstairs. He crawled into the bed - too big for just him, even if he stretched out like a starfish in the center - and checked his phone.

‘ _u up?_ ’, Josh had sent, three minutes ago.

‘ _about to sleep_ ,’ Tyler responded before reaching over to grab his phone charger. It just barely reached where he was laying so he pulled their fluffy comforter around him into a nest, snuggled in, and waited for the response.

‘ _show just ended_ ’ Josh sent and then double texted, ‘ _drinks with the band and then bus call to the next town. Sweet dreams babe <3_’

‘ _have fun <3_’ Tyler hit send and then made sure his alarm was set before putting his phone on the nightstand.

The room was dark, the blackout curtains drawn, and Tyler was comfortable, safe and secure under his blanket, in their bed. His eyes were heavy, his limbs sore from work and moving furniture and instruments.

He slept, easy at first, and then with troubled dreams. A figure, dark, in the doorway of his room, the house creaking with footsteps, a cold hand on his ankle, squeezing, on his cheek, creeping over his skin, too blurry to see.

He woke the next morning to his alarm, sunshine peeking through the small crack between the blackout curtains shining a few feet down from his face, rested but not relaxed.

He stretched in bed, grabbed his phone to check the time - nine-fifteen - and to type out a good morning text to Josh, and then went to the bathroom to start his daily routine.

“What the…” he tilted his head up, staring at himself in the mirror. From shoulder to his jaw line were four faint red lines, as if he’d scratched himself too hard but hadn’t broken the skin.

 _Nightmares_ , he shook his head, splashed some water on his face and finished brushing his teeth.

He got dressed, yesterday’s skinny jeans and one of his own t-shirts after he searched for the one he was _sure_ Josh had left behind but couldn’t find, and made his way out of his room, knocking loudly on the guest room door as he passed it on the way to the stairs.

“Rise and shine, lovebirds!” He called through the wood and waited until he heard twin groans of annoyed wakefulness before he continued down to the kitchen.

There was a mug in the sink, filled with water, that Tyler didn’t remember being there when he went to bed. One of the guys must have had something to drink during the night. He washed it out quickly and set it on the drying rack before he started to pull out the skillet and eggs, intent on making a few omelettes.

The pie was still in the fridge and, with a shrug, Tyler pulled it out too. A piece was missing. That explained the mug, Tyler supposed. It looked like blueberry, so Tyler started the omelettes and, while he was letting them cook, cut himself a piece of the pie and put it in the microwave to heat up while he finished the first omelette. If they didn’t eat it soon, they’d have to throw it out.

By the time Jon and Brendon had joined him, dressed in yesterday’s clothes and only half awake but starved, he’d finished all three omelettes and was taking his first few bites of the pie.

“This _is_ good.” He blinked, staring down at the pie after his first bite, “Holy shit, I need to get the recipe from Byron’s wife.”

“Byron, your neighbor?” Jon looked up from his eggs, mostly gone. “You have _pie_?”

“Pie? Where?” Brendon’s eyes widened a little more, his face animating, “I want some!”

“What do you mean?” Tyler snorted, “ _One_ of you guys broke into it last night, don’t play these innocent games with me. A piece was already missing and I know _I_ didn’t have any.”

Brendon frowned, “Um...I don’t _remember_ eating any pie yesterday. Do you, Jon?”

“No,” Jon shook his head, stealing Tyler’s fork to take a bite of his piece. “We didn’t even know this was in here. Are you sure Josh didn’t open this bad boy up before he left?”

Tyler hesitated, tried to think back, “I...don’t think so? But he must have. If it wasn’t you guys and it wasn’t me, that jerk must have cut some out and didn’t even share!”

Brendon laughed, stealing the fork from Jon so he, too, could eat Tyler’s pie.

“There’s a _whole pie_ , right there,” Tyler motioned to the pie, “Why _my_ piece?”

“Because _it_ is right _here_ ,” Brendon pointed out, taking another bite.

“I hate you,” Tyler pointed out back, shaking his head when Jon only blew a kiss his way.

They finished breakfast and Brendon loaded the dishes into the dishwasher while Tyler rewrapped the pie and put it back in the fridge. He’d be spending his night alone in the house and he would be doing it with that delicious as fuck pie. Next time he saw Byron, he was asking for the recipe.

He grabbed Josh’s hoodie, dry thanks to Jon’s idea of throwing it in the dryer while they were all sleeping, and slipped his bag over his shoulders after he’d zipped it up.

“Ready to go, guys?”

“All set,” Jon pulled their overnight bag onto his back and tossed Tyler the keys he’d lent them the day before, “You driving?”

“Yes,” Tyler said resolutely. He would not be walking to or from work for...a long time, if he had any say in the matter. The area wasn’t as safe as he’d first assumed, he guessed. “Bden, you wanna ride with me?”

“Yes,” Brendon said, giving Jon a teasingly disapproving look. “I’d much rather be in the safe car than Jon’s death machine on wheels.”

“Brendon, it’s a fucking moped.” Jon shook his head. “It goes like, sixty. Tops.”

“See you at home, sweetie,” Brendon leaned over to kiss his cheek, “Drive safe!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jon sighed, but he still kissed Brendon’s forehead before he left the house, leaving the door open for them to follow.

Tyler waited for Brendon to leave before he turned the lights off and locked the door, checking to make sure it was soundly locked in place before he went to his car to unlock the doors. Brendon hopped into the passenger seat and waved at Jon as he disappeared around the corner on his bike, indeed going slow enough that Tyler probably could have run to catch up had he needed to.

They chatted quietly together the whole way to the cafe, comfortable and light conversation, and Tyler didn’t mention his nightmares from the night before. The red lines on his throat had mostly disappeared, but he could almost still feel them, the icy touch he’d dreamed of the night before.

He focused, instead, on Brendon’s retelling of walking in on Ryan trying to make Spencer’s Special Coffee only to drop it all over the floor and burn his ankles.

He was still laughing when they pulled into the parking lot, five minutes away from the beginning of his shift and nearly fifteen minutes after leaving his house, having stopped to get gas and let Brendon grab some candy bars from the gas station.

Right on time, even after the stop, but he didn’t see Jon’s bike in the parking lot.

Ryan was behind the counter when they came in, Bob taking orders at the register while Ryan stocked the bakery window and, once he saw Tyler, he removed himself from the window and started untying his apron.

“Thank God you’re here,” He handed the apron to Tyler, turning Brendon around by his shoulders and pushing him toward the door, “Jon was hit by a car, we need to go to the hospital.”

“What?” Tyler gripped the apron, staring. “Hit by a _car_?”

“We just saw him! Like twenty minutes ago!” Brendon turned to look at Ryan, walking backwards, “Is he okay!?”

“It was just a bump,” Ryan called over his shoulder, “Some guy in a fuckin’ Suburban forced him off the road and he fell into a ditch and knocked himself on the head pretty bad. Someone saw and called an ambulance and then called Spencer when Jon asked her to so he’s already left and we’re meeting them at the hospital.”

“Oh god,” Tyler shook his head, “I’m so sorry, Ryan, if there’s anything I can do...”

“We’ll call you,” Ryan promised, “Do you think you could work a double? Spencer was on to release you, but…”

“No problem,” Tyler promised, “I’ll work doubles, however long you need.”

“Me, too,” Bob called from behind the counter, “You guys focus on making sure Walker is taken care of, okay?”

“Do you have a ride?” Tyler asked, not remembering if he’d seen the car the three of them shared along with Jon’s moped.

“We were gonna call an Uber,” Ryan started, but Tyler tossed his keys their way.

“Take mine, okay? I’ll just walk home.”

“But Tyler,” Brendon looked worried, “You were almost mugged walking last night!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll watch his back.” Bob spoke up again, ringing up a lady with barely a glance at the register. Bob had been there longer than Tyler, Jon, and Brendon all, and he knew every machine and button like the back of his hand. “Make sure he gets home safe.”

“Thank you,” Ryan sighed, relief and stress both on his face and shoulders, “What would we do without you guys?”

“Let’s go, Ry,” Brendon tugged and then they were both out of the door and into Tyler’s newly parked car.

He didn’t watch them leave, just tied Ryan’s apron around his waist and got to work. Before he picked up where Ryan left off, he pushed the kitchen door open and glanced in, “Patrick? You in here?”

Patrick popped up from behind one of the silver prep tables, “Oh, awesome, you’re here. Ryan was on his tiptoes waiting for you,”

“Yeah, they’re using my car to get to the hospital. I just wanted to make sure you were all good in here.”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Patrick gave him a thumbs up - the running joke at the cafe, if Tyler was honest - “If I need anything, I’ll let you know. Or call in my favor with Pete. He owes the place a few unpaid hours after all the shit he’s pulled.”

Tyler smiled, even if it was grim, and nodded, “Okay, Bob and I are at the counter if you need us. We’re both working doubles.”

“Pete’s coming in to replace me at four,” Patrick counted off in his head, “I’ll see if I can get the rest of the day’s goods finished a little early and he can maybe help at the counter during the night-shift rush.”

“Thanks, Stump,” Tyler gave him his own thumbs up and returned to the bakery window. Ryan had mostly finished stocking but was still in the middle of the blueberry cobbler servings. The food Tyler had eaten with Brendon and Jon just half an hour before set heavy in his stomach. He could barely stand the sight of the baked goods in front of him, now. He was suddenly thankful that he’d asked Brendon to ride with him. What would he have done if _both_ of them had been hurt?

“Hey,” Bob nudged him, catching his attention, “Don’t blame yourself, Tyler. You didn’t run anyone off the road. This was some asshole, okay?”

“It’s just...” Tyler bit his lip. “I mean, Jon was only out because he stayed with _me_ , because I didn’t want to be alone.”

“Jon was out because he _wanted_ to be,” Bob said firmly, tapping the back of his head, “He’s fine and dandy, a bump on the head’s not taking him out. Focus on this, okay? Keeping their store in business is the best we can do for any of them at the moment, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Tyler’s lips twisted but he nodded, “I can focus.”

“Good,” Bob leaned over to whisper, “Your neighbor’s here. You want me to take him?”

Tyler honestly thought about it for a second, then shook his head, “I can handle it. Thanks, Bob.”

Bob patted his back in response and stepped away to wipe down the counter while Byron - smiling wide, as always - came to a stop in front of the bakery window.

“Hi, Tyler,”

“Hi, Byron,” Tyler forced his _customers are here_ smile, “What can I help you with? We’ve got fresh blueberry cobbler today,”

“Oh no, thanks,” Byron rubbed his stomach in a wide circular motion, laughing, “I had some pie early this morning! The wife’s recipe, it’s a real blessing, huh?”

Tyler perked up, “Actually yeah, I did too! Do you think I could get that recipe, maybe? My friends liked it a lot and one of them was in an accident, I thought maybe I could try to make it for him to cheer him up.”

For just a second, Byron’s smile flickered off and then it returned full force, “Oh, I’m glad your friends liked it! The missus always said sharing was caring, huh? You’re a pretty caring person, Tyler.”

“Oh, um,” Tyler hesitated, unsure how to respond to them, “I mean, I guess, thank you. Um, is there anything else I can get you, Byron?”

“Just a large black coffee, please,” Byron nodded, “And I’ll stop by tonight to give you that recipe, okay?”

“Oh sure,” Tyler smiled again and turned around to make the coffee, the pot still fresh enough that he wouldn’t have to dump it out and make a new one. He capped it and slid a holder on so it wasn’t so hot to carry before he turned back, “That’s - oh, thanks.”

Byron, a ten already held out, exchanged the bill for the cup. “Keep the change, Tyler.”

“Thanks!” Tyler made the change and pushed it into the tip jar labeled next to the register, “Will that be all for you today?”

“For today, sure!” Byron hesitated then, “Hey, Tyler, just wondering - my friend gave me this shirt as a joke. Do you like it?”

Tyler flicked his eyes down and then blinked, surprised, to see a familiar stressed logo for the Mighty Ducks. “Oh, hey, my boyfriend has a shirt just like that! I was actually gonna wear it today, but I couldn’t find it. I think he must have taken it on tour with him.”

“It’s a little small,” Byron joked, and the shirt was just a little too small, stretched tight around Byron’s biceps. “It would probably look better on you,”

Tyler smiled because he, again, didn’t know what to say to that, “No, it works for you. Um,” He glanced at the clock, ignoring the way Byron lit up at his words, “It’s gonna hit rush hour any second now so I need to get back to work but, um, it was nice talking to you. I’ll see you tonight for the recipe!”

“Definitely,” Byron agreed, taking a sip of his coffee, eyes on Tyler the whole time. Tyler made himself look away, wondering who the hell taught Byron his social skills because they may not have been human and, again, waited for the bell to ding before he looked back to make sure he was gone.

“You okay?” Bob frowned, “You look a little spooked,”

“Nothing,” Tyler shook his head, pushing his suspicions aside, “He just...he’s weird. Do you see it?”

“I can smell it,” Bob agreed, and he wasn’t teasing.

“...You’re still gonna walk home with me, right?” Tyler shifted, “Someone almost mugged me last night, I dunno if I feel safe walking in the dark.”

“I’ll do you one better,” Bob smiled and it instantly made Tyler feel better, “Brian can just pick us up in his _car_ and _drive_ you home, huh? Does that sound good?”

“Okay, smartass, I was just _checking_ ,” Tyler shoved at his arm playfully and Bob laughed, a little louder than usual.

The doorbell dinged again as the door opened and Bob’s laugh went quiet, only to stop completely when Tyler realized that it was Byron again.

“Oh, hey, did you change your mind?” Tyler blinked and did _not_ purposefully take a step closer to Bob. He was just...keeping his balance, his feet moving to avoid aches and pains getting the best of him.

Byron’s eyes flicked to Bob for a split second and his face twisted in what might have been annoyance and then settled back into his familiar smile. “Oh no, I just wanted to ask who brewed the coffee today!”

“That would be me,” Bob raised a hand, “Is it okay?”

“Oh definitely!” Byron laughed, still standing in the doorway. Two people stood close by, obviously waiting to get in, one woman tapping her foot impatiently, “It’s delicious! Just maybe not as good as the coffee Tyler made yesterday.”

“Ha,” Tyler rubbed his neck awkwardly, “Thanks, Byron.”

“No, thank _you_!” Byron waved and then did disappear, leaving the door to close before the person behind him could grab it. Tyler watched him through the front window until he was _sure_ he was gone.

Tyler looked at Bob, “It isn’t just me, right?”

“I’m walking you home from now on or you’re driving,” Bob said in response, and Tyler felt both anxious and relieved that Bob’s simple reply was enough to answer his question.

-

They both worked the doubles, waving to Pete when he showed up to take over Patrick’s shift and then gratefully accepting his help during the night-shift rush when the final herd of people stopped by for their caffeine-and-baked-goods fix. By the time the last customer was handled and Bob was locking the door, the clock was nearing ten and it was dark enough that Tyler had to squint to see past the lights coming from the cafe.

“Brian’s coming,” Bob pulled the blinds on the front windows, blocking the world out and leaving the two of them separated from the world. “We can go wait out back.”

“Any news on the guys?” Tyler followed Bob out of the back door, making sure it was locked after them. Pete had gone home just after the big rush ended around nine, so Tyler didn’t bother leaving any lights on. Patrick would be back early to open up from the front and he wouldn’t need the kitchen lit up.

“Spencer texted me during my break,” Bob nodded, “Jon’s doing okay. They’re keeping him overnight for observation and he cracked his wrist up a bit but otherwise he’s fine and the moped isn’t too fucked, either. Brendon and Spencer will be back tomorrow morning and Ryan brings him home when he’s discharged around noon-ish.”

“Good,” Tyler slumped in relief. “I hope they catch the asshole who did it,”

Bob stayed close to his side, the two of them standing under the only street light brightening up the area by the large trash can. Tyler felt a creeping unease starting at the base of his back and slowly working up his spine. He looked around but there was no one else in the alley, no one watching them that he could see.

Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling so he pulled his phone out to text Josh and chalked it up to his paranoia. Bob was right next to him so, really, he was safer right here than if he’d been locked in his room alone. The room may have had a lock, but Bob had MMA training.

Bob didn’t talk much while Tyler exchanged texts with Josh but Bob wasn’t one for talking much. At one point, he dropped an arm around Tyler’s shoulders and Tyler pressed against the warmth of his side, the rainy weather chilling him.

“What’s up?” He glanced up from the phone screen, where he’d been flipping through the pictures of the show Josh had sent him.

“Nothing,” Bob shrugged, but his shoulders were a tense line and he was frowning.

“Bob?” Tyler glanced around again, “What’s wrong?”

“Just a feeling,” Bob shrugged again, looking around slowly, “You know?”

“Yeah,” Tyler knew.

They fell back into the quiet of before, Tyler still staring at his phone screen. He wasn’t swiping to see new pictures, his fingers frozen. Instead, he looked at the one Josh’s tour buddy had taken of him mid song, sweaty and flushed, shirtless, his hair bright pink and fluffed out from running his fingers through it between songs.

When Brian finally showed, Tyler was nearly vibrating with nerves, his eyes glued to the screen and refusing to look up even when the sound of the car pulling up filled the alley.

“Hey, Bri,” Bob moved with Tyler to the door and opened the back seat door for him, gentle, “Hey, we’re good now, Ty. Just relax, okay?”

“Yeah,” Tyler shook himself, “Yeah, okay, yeah, sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Bob closed the door once he’d seated himself and then piled into the passenger seat and leaned over to kiss Brian quickly in hello.

“Thanks for coming.”

“No problem,” Brian shrugged, “Is Jon okay?”

“He’ll be back tomorrow,” Bob nodded, turning to look around again. “Did you see anyone when you turned in?”

“Um,” Brian paused, “There was some guy standing in front of the cafe? I told him it was closed and he left, though.”

“Hm,” Bob nodded and put his seatbelt on, which reminded Tyler to do the same, “Hey, do you want me to stay with you tonight?”

Tyler hesitated, thinking about it, “It wouldn’t bother you?”

“Nah,” Bob glanced Brian’s way, “You want to have a sleepover at the new haunted house, Bri?”

“Do I get to raid the records?” Brian asked, looking at Tyler from the rearview mirror, bemused. This wouldn’t be the first impromptu sleepover between their group of friends.

“Your favorites are all in order, courtesy of Bren.” Tyler broke into a smile, finally feeling his fingers relax enough that he could type a response back to Josh’s latest text.

The ride home was quiet after that; Brian and Bob talking softly in the front seat, Tyler texting Josh, the world soft. They pulled into his driveway, now sans both his car and Jon’s moped, and Tyler dug through his bag for his keys before he got out. Bob was waiting for him while Brian was already walking up the stairs with a quick stride, and Tyler hurried to catch up, Bob behind him. Once he’d unlocked the door and let them both in, he locked it back up and pressed his back to it securely, finally feeling able to relax from the tense pressure that had been building up all day in his stomach.

“I got food,” He nodded towards the fridge, “And the record player is in the living room. You guys want anything?”

Brian tsked, already heading for the fridge. “You two worked nearly ten hours today. Go sit in the living room and put on some music or something, I’m gonna make dinner.”

They spent the next few hours in the living room, eating the rest of the pie and Brian’s spaghetti, listening to music and stories from when Brian had managed Bob’s MMA training and their times working security for a strip club downtown when they were fresh out of college and looking for work. Around one in the morning, Tyler finally decided it was time for bed.

“Okay, guys,” he hid another yawn, “I think I’m gonna head up. The guest room is the first door on the left upstairs.”

“Night, man.” Bob waved a hand in goodbye, his head tilted back on the couch with his eyes closed. He’d been on shift at least two hours longer than Tyler had, so he must have been exhausted.

“Uh,” Tyler paused at the door, “Thanks for coming over, guys.”

“Anytime, Ty,” Brian smiled at him and it made the nerves in his stomach relax. “Goodnight.”

“'Night,” Tyler scurried up the stairs and pulled all the curtains in his room before stripping and burrowing under the blankets.

Josh called him a few seconds later, the screen lighting up with his name and illuminating the otherwise dark room, and he answered with a smile.

“Hey, Josh.”

“Hey, babe,” Josh answered, the quiet of the background letting Tyler know he was in either the bus or a hotel room.“How’s it goin’?”

“Okay,” Tyler said and it wasn’t exactly a lie. “Jon got hit by a car today but he’s fine and he’ll be home tomorrow,”

“Oh shit!” Josh’s voice raised, alarmed, “He wasn’t hurt?”

“Just fell into a ditch and bumped his head,” Tyler pressed the phone to his ear and pulled the blanket over his head. “How’s tour?”

“Boring,” Josh sighed, “I miss you. I should have just made you come with me.”

“I should have gone,” Tyler couldn’t help but admit, smiling into the darkness of his room; what was supposed to be _their_ room.

“We could have just left everything packed up...I could have taken a few months off, I’m sure that they could have covered without me for a little bit.”

“We’ve have the whole tour on our asses the whole time,” Josh laughed and Tyler closed his eyes and pretended that they were face to face, next to each other. “How’s your music coming? Anything?”

Tyler frowned, the illusion breaking.

“I haven’t really been able to work on anything,” He admitted, “Between unpacking and working, and you being gone…I’m convinced my motivation left with you.”

“Well,” Josh said, and his voice was encouraging as always, “They always say the most beautiful things in life don’t come cheap.”

“It’s the best things, Josh,” Tyler smiled, feeling warm, “You said it wrong.”

“Nah, I don’t think so,” Josh argued, scoffing playfully, “You’re just gonna have to change how you remember the saying.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tyler yawned, “If you say so.”

“I do,” Josh laughed again, quiet and soft, “Go to bed, babe.”

“You, too,” Tyler grumbled, grasping blindly for his charger and plugging the phone in to charge while he slept. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Josh said and Tyler could tell he was smiling, “Talk to you tomorrow,”

Tyler hummed his response and Josh ended the call, the phone going dim soon after and again leaving the room in darkness.

He slept without nightmares, the phone clutched in his hand.

-

“God damn it,” Brian slammed his fist on the hood of the car in frustration. “Why didn’t I notice this last night?”

“It was dark,” Bob crossed his arms, frowning thoughtfully, “We must have hit a patch on the way over.”

“We didn’t even feel a bump, though.” Tyler took Brian’s phone when it was offered, Brian too annoyed to try doing it himself, and started taking pictures of the wheels of Brian’s car - filled with holes made from long, pointed nails. A few had fallen out during the night but there were still at least two or three that they could see embedded within the material of all four tires. “Where would they have even come from?”

“The alley, maybe,” Brian sighed, accepting his phone back when Tyler uncrouched from getting the back of the wheels. “You two can head off if you want, I’ve only got one spare so hopefully Triple-A handles more than one flat tire at a time.”

“Are you sure?” Bob frowned, glancing at his phone to check the time. Patrick would have opened the kitchens around five but Tyler and Bob wouldn’t be opening the front until seven-thirty. It was just after sunrise, closer to seven-ten, and there was no way Triple-A would be here before they had to be gone. “I can maybe call in a favor, see if one of the guys can come back a little earlier.”

“No, it’s fine.” Brian sent off the text to his insurance with the attached pictures and rubbed his face. “It’s fine, really. I’ll just hang out, call Bill and let him know I’ll be late to the office.”

“Here,” Tyler fished out his keys and gave them to Brian, “You can wait inside, man. This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t come to get us back there,”

“It’s not your fault.” Bob punched his shoulder, light enough but it still sent Tyler stumbling a little. “Whatever asshole threw these all over the road, on the other hand…”

“Thanks, Ty,” Brian took the keys, “I’ll drop them off at the cafe once I get this situation taken care of.”

“Sure,” Tyler nodded. “Whenever is fine, I’m off at one-thirty if all goes to plan, but I can hang around until you get the chance to come back.”

“Probably about that time,” Brian nodded, looking mournfully at his car, and then he quietly mumbled; “Those were _new_ ,”

“You’ll get better ones,” Bob tried to comfort him, patting his back lightly, “Keep the door locked, okay?”

“Yeah,” Brian sighed, “I will. Have a good day at work,”

“You, too,” Tyler tried to smile, but guilt was eating him up. This was the second accident in as many days. Maybe he was just cursed?  

He and Bob left a few minutes later, after Brian had received the confirmation text from Triple-A, and Tyler kept an eye out for any areas where piles of nails might have been when they’d driven past the night before.

They didn’t find any, not even in the alley outside of the cafe.

Tyler didn’t forget about it after they opened up and the morning rush started, but it left the forefront of his mind, replaced with orders and working with and around Bob. Around nine, Brendon and Spencer came back with an all-clear message for Jon and went upstairs to sleep after being awake all night. Tyler took his break around noon, when Ryan and Jon got back, to help Ryan get a drugged up Jon up the stairs and into his room and have lunch with Ryan, and then took over so Bob could take his break. Brian stopped by around one, as promised, and handed off Tyler’s keys and, before he knew it, it was time for him to clock out so Brendon could take over.

“Thanks, Ty,” Brendon hugged him before he left the counter area. “You and Bob were lifesavers, we’re gonna do something to repay you.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Tyler rolled his eyes and hugged him back, “Anytime.”

“Take the main roads.” Brendon pulled away but held Tyler by his shoulders. “Make sure you’re not being followed. Actually,”

He let go of Tyler to shove his hands into the pockets of his skinny jeans, where one pocket was bulging with something long and rounded. When he pulled it out, Tyler almost started laughing.

“You got me _pepper spray_?”

“Hell yes, I did!” Brendon defended himself, shoving the spritz bottle into Tyler’s hand, “If you think you’re being mugged again, you spray the shit out of them and run.”

“Okay, okay,” Tyler smiled, unable to keep the happiness from swelling in his chest. He loved his friends. “I’ll keep it on hand.”

“You’d better!” Brendon bounced on his feet. “Text me when you get home, okay? I mean it.”

“I will, _mom_ ,” Tyler teased, but he still didn’t stop smiling even after he’d left the cafe with a wave to Bob, who wouldn’t be off for another half hour. He also left his car in case the guys needed it, Jon having a sudden relapse or a different emergency popping up. He’d come back for it tomorrow.

He kept to the main roads, avoided the alleys even though it added nearly ten minutes to the walk, and - despite feeling a little stupid - kept the pepper spray in the palm of his hand.

He reached his house without a problem, and was still shaking his head at himself for his overreactions during the last few days when he noticed that the mailbox’s red flag was up. He texted Brendon on his walk to his driveway, because he was a good friend who did what he was asked, pausing in front of the brick house that made up his, frankly too big, mailbox to finish and send the text.

When he opened the box, the only thing inside was a hand-sized, heart-shaped box of chocolates.

“Um,” he said out loud, pulling the heart from the mailbox and turning it over. There was no return address - actually, there was no mailing address at all. There was just a place at the top where a name was supposed to be written in - and there his name was. “What the…?”

And then it hit him. _We’re gonna do something to repay you._

“Bren,” He sighed, both amused and exasperated.

He took the box inside, tossed the plastic wrapper in the trash and was toeing off his shoes when someone knocked on the door - loud and sudden enough that he nearly dropped the box on the floor.

That knock, now familiar to Tyler, made him close his eyes and take a deep breath to avoid the annoyance. Byron hadn’t been at the cafe today, but Tyler should have expected him to show up at some point.

He set the box on the edge of the counter along with the pepper spray and turned back to the door, opening it to reveal - _surprise_ \- Byron.

“Hi, Byron.”

“Hey, Tyler!” Byron smiled and held up a notecard with slanted, feminine writing. “You asked for that recipe yesterday. I tried to bring it over last night but you were asleep, I guess, and you’re friend said I should come back later.”

“Oh, um, yeah, thanks,” Tyler hesitated and then stepped back. “You wanna come in? I’ll just go grab some paper and something to write it down with.”

“That’s kind of you,” Byron stepped inside, looking around fondly, “You’re a kind person, Tyler. Kind and caring, huh?”

“Um,” Tyler smiled to hide his confusion, “Thanks? I’ll be back in a second, just wait here.”

“‘Course,” Byron nodded, walking over to the pantry door and touching it lightly, “I’ll just relive some old memories.”

Tyler ducked out of the room to grab the notebook he’d left in the living room and, when he returned, Byron was at the island, looking at the chocolate box with an even wider smile than before.

“What’s this? A secret admirer?”

“Just a friend,” Tyler shook his head, “Saying thanks for something. Um, I’ve got the notebook.”

Byron’s smile had dimmed at Tyler’s answer but returned full force when Tyler lifted the notebook to show him. He handed over the recipe and Tyler opened the notebook to a blank page and pulled the pen he kept in the spine out to write the words down quickly.

“How’s your wife today?” He asked, not taking his eyes off transferring the information from the card to the notebook.

Byron didn’t answer for a few seconds, not until Tyler lifted his eyes to check that he was alright, and Byron cut his eyes away, as if he’d been staring at Tyler.

“She’s away right now,” He answered, “But doing great the last time we talked.”

“Oh, you’re doing the long-distance thing, too?” Tyler went back to copying, “Gets pretty lonely, huh?”

“Oh,” Byron nodded, something...hopeful in his voice, “I know.”

Tyler finished copying the recipe a few seconds later and marked the page before he shut the book and put his pen back. “Thanks for bringing this over, Byron. Everyone really liked the pie, Bob nearly finished it off himself!”

“Ah,” Byron chuckled, “You and Bob are pretty close, I think.”

“He’s a good guy,” Tyler agreed, offering the card back for Byron to take. Byron’s fingers nearly brushed his again but Tyler dropped his hand away before they could, his spine prickling, “Probably the greatest guy I know, actually.”

“Huh,” Byron nodded slowly, looking thoughtful. “I see.”

He turned abruptly to leave, spinning on his heels, “Let me know how the pie turns out, Tyler, I’d love a taste!”

“I will,” Tyler agreed, still confused. He hadn’t been sure how he was going to get Byron to leave but, now that he was, Tyler wasn’t sure what he’d done to make him want to go so badly.  

He locked the door after Byron, shook the confusion off and forgot about it.

Instead, he took the chocolates to the living room, set up some Netflix and relaxed for the rest of the night. He called Josh that night, they talked (and then they _talked_ ), and he slept easy and relaxed afterwards.

In the morning, when he was getting ready for work around seven, he realized he’d misplaced his pepper spray and shrugged it off without another thought. He’d probably tossed it into one of the junk drawers. He’d look for it later.

He left, noticing that the door wasn’t squeaking anymore. Someone must have but that WD-40 on it.

-

He didn’t get the chance to thank Brendon for the chocolate for nearly a week. They didn’t often get to see each other during work hours since Brendon worked the closing shift and, when they did see each other, Brendon had a way of taking over the conversation and leading it into weird and interesting places until Tyler had totally forgotten what he’d wanted to talk about in the first place.

Finally though, the chance arrived when they were eating lunch together - Tyler leaving late now that he was helping to cover Jon’s shifts, Brendon coming down for his shift early.

“Hey,” He started after he’d swallowed the last of his sandwich, “I wanted to say thanks for those chocolates. They were expensive as hell,”

“Chocolates?” Brendon swallowed his bite of cake, “What chocolates?”

“Last week, when Jon came home,” Tyler clarified, wondering if Brendon had just forgotten or if one of his boyfriends had sent the chocolates instead. “They were in my mailbox, addressed to me.”

“I don’t remember sending any chocolates,” Brendon blinked. “We were all in the hospital all day, I don’t think we sent any.”

“But if you didn’t put them there and Josh didn’t, who gave me chocolate?” Tyler put down his drink, feeling...weird. They had been wrapped so he wasn’t worried about poisoning but…where had they come from?

 _Secret admirer_ , Byron had asked.

“I...guess they were just from someone giving them out in the neighborhood?” Tyler guessed. “I can’t think of why someone would be giving me chocolates.”

“Maybe you have a secret admirer,” Brendon winked, laughing and Tyler laughed along and let it go, ignoring the weird feeling in his stomach.

-

“It was hot,” Tyler laughed, watching Josh on the screen of his laptop. They’d been Skyping for nearly two hours, since Josh’s show had ended, and Tyler was exhausted but he didn’t want to sleep, laying in bed and fighting the tiredness off.

“Was it?” Josh winked. “I knew they were filming so I thought I’d break out the backflips.”

“I’m gonna show you what else your back can do when you get home,” Tyler smirked, breaking into a real smile when Josh laughed.

“What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know,” Tyler admitted, “But I’ll show you when you get home.”

“Just a couple months.” Josh smiled, “There’s gonna be a week break between shows after next week. I was thinking about flying home.”

“Yes,” Tyler set up, jostling the laptop balanced on the mattress next to his head, “Do that. Definitely do that.”

“What?” Josh teased, “You aren’t enjoying living it up in that house without your boring boyfriend around to cramp your style?”

“The raging parties got old the second week,” Tyler shrugged. “We’re out of alcohol and I haven’t had the chance to get more, so I think I could break from living it up to have a quiet week with you.”

“How kind,” Josh shook his head, but it was fond and amused. “You always know what to say.”

“It’s a gift,” Tyler shrugged, and was about to say something else when a crash from downstairs jolted him hard enough that his laptop fell over.

“Tyler?” Josh called, “What the fuck was that?”

“I…” Tyler set the laptop back up slowly. “I have no idea,” He found the door to his bedroom, cracked but not closed, and couldn’t look away. “I need to go check it out.”

“Don’t,” Josh stopped him, “Tyler, just call the police,”

“I can’t just call the police if it’s nothing,”

Tyler looked around and finally pulled open the nightstand and grabbed the flashlight they kept in it. It was at least twenty years old, bright orange and thick enough to knock someone out if swung with enough force.

“Tyler,” Josh started again but Tyler shushed him.

“I’ll be back in….two minutes. If I’m not, call the police.”

“Tyler, I’m going to murder you - Tyler!”

But Tyler was already out of the room, closing the door until it was just cracked again and then making his way down the upstairs hallway. He held the flashlight above his head, turned off, and waited until his eyes had adjusted to the gloom before he moved too far from his bedroom door.

He skipped the second stair from the top on his way down, mentally thanking Byron for the tip as he did it, but the house was silent when he made it to the bottom hallway. He checked the living room first, back against the wall and peering into the room from around the jam of the entranceway, but didn’t see anyone in the moonlit space so he moved on to the kitchen, trying desperately to keep his breathing quiet, to avoid making so much as a soft sigh of an exhale.

He found what the crash was, the pot he’d used to cook dinner laying on the wooden floor, which had somehow found its way from the drying mat while he’d been upstairs.

“Hello?” He kept the flashlight high, ready to bludgeon any motherfucker who came at him, as he moved into the kitchen. He needed to check the laundry room but, first, he needed to check the front door.

It was locked.

He heard something shift behind him and turned just in time to see a shadow disappear into the living room. He moved to follow, his chest frozen like ice, and then something brushed against his leg and he dropped his makeshift weapon with a loud scream.

Mr. Meow leapt away from him, yowling, and Tyler fell back against the door, crashing into the wood and falling to the ground with another yell, the flashlight rolling away from him and click-clacking across the floor and into the hallway, where it finally stopped its roll. At some point, the light had come on and landed on Tyler, illuminating both a circular area around him and a pissed off ginger cat staring at him with fluffed fur.

“Oh my god,” He sobbed, relief making bringing tears to his eyes. He leaned his head back against the door, and covered his face with one hand to fight back the sharp, near-painful feeling that had made his eyes water. He breathed in deep a few times, tried to get control of himself and offered a hand out blindly, waiting for Mr. Meow to calm down and approach him before he gave in to petting him. Stroking the rough fur eventually got his heart rate down and Tyler finally stood up and scooped the fucking cat into his arms, shaking his head.

“You gave me a heart attack,” He told the innocent face looking up at him, Mr. Meow having gone limp. They’d become pretty comfortable with each other over the last few weeks, he must have come in behind Tyler after he got off work and hidden somewhere until Tyler had disappeared into his room. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d snuck in, but it was the longest Tyler had gone without finding him. And the scariest.

He turned the flashlight off with his toes but left it in the middle of the hallway, facing the front door, and made his way back upstairs and into his room, where Josh was still quietly cursing him out on Skype.

“Tyler, you _fuck_ \- is that Mr. Meow?”

“He must have snuck in and I just didn’t notice,” Tyer dropped the cat on the floor of the room and closed the door. His voice was still a little stuffy from being so close to crying and, even if he was assured that he was still alone in the house, he still made sure that he flicked the lock on the door before he moved to open the window, giving Mr. Meow a way to escape without letting him have the run of the house. He could jump from the roof outside their window to the tree and make his way outside whenever he wanted.

“You can’t just fucking run off like that,” Josh rubbed a hand over his face, possibly holding his own relief back from prickling at his eyes, “I was dialing 911 when you came in.”

“I had to check it out!” Tyler defended himself, crawling back into bed and pulling his comforter up so that it nearly covered his face, leaving just his eyes to be seen by the webcam. “What if it had been like…a burglar and he took all of our stuff?”

“Let him have it!” Josh waved his free arm, “God, Ty, let him have it all as long as you’re safe!”

Tyler didn’t know what to say to that so he didn’t say anything, just watched Josh try to pull himself back together. It couldn’t have been easy, Tyler thought. Had he been in Josh’s place and been forced to sit there while Josh had disappeared into the night, he doubted he would be quietly calming down without yelling like Josh was.

Mr. Meow found his way onto the bed and he was probably covered in fleas and mud but Tyler was so relieved that _he_ had been Tyler’s burglar that he didn’t even care. Let the fucking cat cover the whole place in mud as long as he was the only other person in the house.

Josh finally calmed down and removed his hand from his face, shaking his head..

“You’re gonna have to go buy cat food. And clean him.”

“Probably,” Tyler shook his head. “He’s not gonna like that.”

“Try not to get scratched,” Josh teased and Tyler broke into a smile, finally relaxed enough to begin to feel sleepy again.

It was a funny story, he’d think tomorrow, and he’d tell Bob about it and Spencer would laugh but Bob would just stare and ask if he was sure Mr. Meow had come in with Tyler.

Tyler would firmly tell him he was and would push away any thoughts otherwise. He wouldn’t remember the half asleep moment closer to three in the morning when Mr. Meow had hissed at the door, at the creak of the house settling, and Tyler had sleepily patted his head before going back to sleep and he wouldn’t let himself think of the shadow disappearing into the living room.

-

“Tyler’s busy,” Tyler heard, standing just inside of the kitchen, three days later.

“I’ll wait,” Someone who could only be Byron responded, sounding a little more aggressive than Tyler thought was warranted.

“He’s not gonna be back for awhile,” Bob lied. Tyler took that as his cue to stay in the kitchen, where Patrick and Ryan were finishing off a special order of muffins for Brian’s office.

“I can wait,” Byron repeated, “Also, you know he has a boyfriend?”

“Um,” Bob paused, confused, “Is that...any of your business?”

“I’m just saying,” Byron continued. “Tyler is a nice person, he’s caring and kind and you shouldn’t try to ruin his relationship just because you’re jealous.”

“Okay,” Bob sighed, sounding annoyed, “Listen, man, I don’t know who you think you are, but Tyler, his boyfriend, _my husband_ and I have been friends for years. You have been his neighbor for like not even three weeks and, honestly, you’re being a real fucking creep so I’m going to have to ask you to order or leave.”

“We’re friends,” Byron snapped, growing angry. “Tyler and I are friends, you have no idea. How many times have you been to his house? I’ve been over more. I’ve been around more than his boyfriend, even!”

“Leave,” Bob said mildly, “Before I call the cops. I’m serious.”

“You’ll be sorry,” Byron practically growled, “I’m going to tell him about this and you’ll be fucking sorry.”

Tyler heard stomping and then the bell above the door chiming violently.

When the quiet finally settled and Tyler heard Bob go back to cleaning, he swept out of the kitchen with a quiet and freaked out, “Bob, what the _fuck_ was he _talking_ about?”

Bob hesitated, not turning around for a few seconds, and then seemed to make a decision.

When he did turn around, his face was serious and it put Tyler on edge. The cafe was empty aside from two college students buried waist deep in a pile of books in the corner who hadn’t seemed to notice the small argument at all so Tyler didn’t try to stop him when Bob led him back into the kitchen, Patrick and Ryan looking at them in confusion.

“Who’s at the counter?” Ryan blinked, rubbing his hands off on his apron.

Bob tilted his head, “Could you take over for a few minutes? I need to talk to Tyler about something important.”

“Can it wait?” Ryan sighed, already pulling the kitchen apron off to accept Tyler’s, who handed it over in confusion.

“No,” Bob said firmly so Ryan shrugged and stepped out of the kitchen to man the counter while Bob took Tyler through the back and into the alley behind the cafe. Tyler usually didn’t come out this way unless he was closing, so it was weird to see how uncreepy it looked in broad daylight.

“Okay, Tyler,” Bob grabbed his shoulders so they were looking at each other, that serious look still making his face firm. The line between his blue eyes was pronounced because his brow was furrowed, almost concerned. “Let’s go over a few things, okay?”

“Okay…?” Tyler agreed slowly, confused and growing worried himself.

“To date,” Bob let go of his shoulders so he could start ticking off fingers, “You were followed home after work, you got some random box of chocolates from someone you don’t know, someone put _nails_ in Brian’s wheels - there is no way we wouldn’t have felt nails that big going through all four tires. Now, the neighborhood cat has somehow gotten into your house without you noticing _and_ your neighbor is here literally every day and refuses to be served by anyone else and starts accusing people of trying to wreck your relationships because the two of you are such good _friends_.”

“I don’t see where you’re going here,” Tyler crossed his arms and pushed whatever thoughts were trying to form away, “I mean, I’m pretty sure I imagined someone following me, you know? And I can’t explain the chocolate or the wheels - are you _sure_ we couldn’t have run over them? - but the cat, I mean this wouldn’t be the first time he’s followed me inside.”

“Tyler,” Bob said gently, “I think Byron is stalking you.”

Tyler blinked once, twice, and then laughed.

“Bob, what? You laughed at me when I even mentioned I thought he was creepy!”

“I’m serious.” Bob didn’t break character. “Does it look like I’m joking? Didn’t you hear him in there? He’s got some really weird delusions that you two are somehow _close_ , he’s showing up here at least once a day - I talked to Spencer, Ty, and he’s never fucking seen him before. He didn’t used to stop by in the evenings, he didn’t start showing up until you moved into your house.”

“But,” Tyler hesitated, trying to think of what to say, “Bob, that’s crazy. Why the hell would he be stalking _me_? He doesn’t even know me! He gave me pie, Bob! Stalkers don’t give people pie!”

“Tyler,” Bob rubbed his face, “Tyler, him giving you pie has nothing to do with any of this. There’s no telling _why_ he’s fixated on you but I fucking know the signs, okay? I’ve seen my fair share of stalkers when I was working at the clubs and Byron is ringing every bell I’ve got.”

Tyler wrapped his arms around himself, trying to wrap his head around what Bob was telling him in the same way. He could...see where Bob was coming from but, at the same time, Byron _stalking_ him? One thing was clear though, the only thing Tyler knew for sure.

“You can’t tell Josh,” He said, looking at Bob worriedly. “He’ll come rushing home and he’s having a lot of fun on this tour, okay? You absolutely can’t tell him you think I’m being - whatever.”

“Stalked, Tyler,” Bob said firmly, “You should tell him. He’s got a right to know if you’re in danger.”

“I’m not in _danger_ ,” Tyler took a step back, his stomach rolling, “Why would you even _say_ that, Bob?”

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Bob put his hands up, voice dropping to a less aggressive tone, “I didn’t mean you were in danger, I just meant you _could be_.”

“Well, I’m _not_.” Tyler firmed up his stance. “I would have noticed, Bob.”

Bob raised an eyebrow and Tyler wilted a few seconds later. “I would have,” He said, more weakly.

“Look,” Bob reached out and Tyler accepted the hug easily, feeling vulnerable and scared all of a sudden. What if he _was_ being followed? What if Mr. Meow hadn’t followed him in, but Byron had been in their house and he’d come in _then_? What if _he_ had been that shadow that Tyler had disregarded when he’d seen the cat?

“Look, Tyler, just...don’t talk to him anymore, okay? I’ll talk to Spencer and Ryan about banning him from the cafe and, next time he approaches you, just tell him to leave you alone. If he tries anything, you know I’ll have Frank and Toro at your place the second you say so.”

“You know,” Tyler slowly pulled away from the hug, feeling a little better. “Is there a job you haven’t had? MMA fighter, security, cop...”

“I wasn’t a cop,” Bob clarified, for what had to be the twentieth time. “I just went through the academy.”

“It’s bullshit,” Tyler shook his head. “I’ll...yeah, I’m not gonna talk to him anymore. Even if he isn’t….following me, the way he talked to you was way out of line and way fucking creepy.”

Bob smiled, “As long as you just...avoid him, I don’t care why you do it. Now let’s get back to work, before Ryan kills us.”

The rest of the day was relatively quiet, the rushes lighter than usual but running a little longer. At one point, Bob disappeared with Spencer and they talked just out of range of Tyler’s hearing. By the time Bob was done, Spencer was nodding, his expression serious. Tyler was both relieved that _he_ wouldn’t have to talk to anyone about it and also a little concerned that Spencer so easily believed that Byron was stalker material.

When it was his time to clock out, he nervously gripped his keys, standing by the counter and putting off leaving. He’d been let off later than usual today, closer to six than his usual two or four clock out time, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to go home for the night yet or not.

“Tyler,” Spencer tossed his apron to Brendon and left the back of the counter, coming to stand next to him, “I’m gonna go home with you tonight.”

“You don’t have to!” Tyler shook himself out, told himself to stop being stupid, “I’m just being dumb. I’ll be fine, okay? I need to confront him myself anyway, right? If he comes up to me? Clear and confident, that’s what I read online.”

“Are you sure?” Spencer frowned, “I really don’t mind. We could watch movies, you could introduce me to this new cat.”

“Spencer,” Tyler smiled, “You’re allergic to cats.”

Spencer waved his hand as if he could wave away the facts, “Mind over matter, Joseph, mind over matter. If I do not _believe_ that I am allergic to cats, then I won’t be.”

“Yeah?” Tyler laughed, “Tell that to the kitten you made Brendon give to his sister.”

Spencer shrugged but Tyler shook his head, nudging him, “Really, thanks. But it’s okay, I can handle it.”

“...If you’re sure,” Spencer finally gave in. “Just text or call one of us if something happens, okay? And for fuck’s sake, take your fucking car home.”

“I was leaving it here in case you needed it! Jon had a really bad concussion!”

“He’ll be back to normal in a few weeks,” Spencer promised, smiling, “He’s gonna be down _tomorrow_ , he’s just been resting as much as possible for the last week like the doctor told him to.”

“Still…” Tyler hesitated, “You don’t think maybe...Byron did that, do you?”

“What?” Spencer frowned again, “Ran Jon off the road? No,” He shook his head, “Of course not. And even if he did, it wouldn’t be your fault, so don’t even think of it like that, okay? Just go home; Skype Josh. Watch some movies with your new cat and chill out.”

“Yeah, okay,” Tyler gave in, nodding and accepting the keys Spencer forcefully shoved into his hands, “Thanks, Spence.”

“Home,” Spencer ordered, pointing at the front door.

Tyler went home. Well, he stopped at the corner store on his way and picked up some cat food - both hard and soft, since he didn’t know what Mr. Meow would like - and then he went home.

He’d hoped to avoid the whole confrontation with Byron until tomorrow, when he was rested and had had time to comprehend what Bob had accused his mild-mannered, if overbearing and clingy, neighbor of but any hope of that fled the moment he turned onto the street and saw Byron in his driveway _kicking Mr. Meow._ He’d thought Mr. Meow big, once; overweight and wide, heavy when he picked him up. But against Byron, he was just _small_ \- small enough to be lifted off the ground and through the air until he hit the tree in the yard with a sickening _thwap_ that Tyler couldn’t _hear_ , but _felt_.

Tyler skidded to a halt, nearly tilting the car on its side at the speed of his stop, and jumped out - all care for hurting Byron’s feelings or making the situation awkward gone from his system to be replaced with _fury_.

“What the _fuck_ , Byron?”

“I -” Byron started, panic covering his face, “No, Tyler, Tyler, he _attacked_ me,”

“Get the fuck out of my way,” Tyler snapped back, shoving past him and kneeling down next to Mr. Meow, who hadn’t moved from where Byron had kicked him. He gave a pitiful little _mwrr_ when Tyler touched him and curled protectively in on himself and Tyler’s heart broke all together, something dark and ugly rearing up in him. He pulled his jacket off and carefully bundled Mr. Meow into it, pulling his phone out to Google the nearest animal hospital to his location. Byron followed him to his passenger door, where he nearly hit him swinging it open so he could carefully deposit Mr. Meow, jacket in all, into the seat.

“Tyler, I swear, it isn’t what it looks like, he -”

“Shut up,” Tyler whirled, pointing at Byron and nearly shoving his finger into his chest to get his point across, “You and I are not friends. You don’t get to harass my co-workers _or_ my actual friends about my relationships with _anyone_ , least of all Bob. I don’t care who you think you are or _what_ ,” he motioned between the two of them, “Kind of _thing_ you thought was here, but you _aren’t_ and it _isn’t_ and _will never be_. Stay away from _me_ , stay away from my work, and _stay away from my cat_ , or I swear to fucking _Christ_ , Byron,”

He left it at that and got into the driver's seat, rolling down the window, “And get the hell out of my driveway because I _will_ run you over if you’re still there when I get back.”

The nearest animal hospital was fifteen minutes from where Tyler lived and Mr. Meow cried the whole way there, soft little whines that made Tyler both miserable with guilt and worry and absolutely livid at Byron. By the time he reached the hospital, he was shaking from so much emotion, unsure what to do but to park, bundle Mr. Meow back into his arms as carefully as he could, and take him inside.

By the time he’d been through intake, X-rays had been done and casts had been set, Tyler was out nearly six hundred dollars, Mr. Meow had a broken front right leg and would need to be in a cast for around five to six weeks, and he was physically and mentally exhausted. They’d be keeping Mr. Meow for the night to make sure that they hadn’t missed anything but, hopefully, he would be back with Tyler by tomorrow night. The bag of cat food was still on the floor of the passenger side, white plastic just barely showing the brands of the canned food.

He called Bob, not knowing what else to do. If he called Josh, he’d have to explain the Byron situation and he just...he couldn’t. Not yet.

“Tyler?” Bob answered the phone, sounding worried, “Where are you?”

“What’s wrong?” Tyler immediately asked, forgetting about his initial plans to tell Bob what had happened, “Are you okay?”

“I went to your house but the place was locked up and you weren’t answering your phone,”

Tyler looked at his screen and, sure enough, he had missed three of Bob’s calls two hours ago, when he’d been in the examination room and had swiped the call to ignore without looking all three times.

“Shit,” He cursed, the hand on the wheel gripping it so tightly that his knuckles were white. Some guy behind him was _on his ass_ and wasn’t letting up and it was beginning to grind on Tyler’s already fried nerves. “I was at the animal hospital, I’m sorry. Byron, shit, Bob, he broke Mr. Meow’s leg,”

“What the _fuck_ ,” Bob sounded as incredulous as Tyler had at first been to see Byron fucking punt his cat across the yard, “He went after your _cat_ , too?”

“What do you mean, _too_?” Tyler’s eyes shot to his rearview mirror, the silver Chevrolet behind him nearly blinding him with their hi-beams. He flashed his back lights in the hopes of getting them _off_ his ass, but it didn’t work.

“ _Someone_ was waiting in the alley after I got off work,” Bob sighed, sounding more agitated than anything else, “I gave them a good fucking punch to the face but they ran away before I could get a good look at them. Three guesses as to who the fuck it was, huh?”

“ _Bob_ ,” Tyler tucked the phone between his cheek and shoulder so he could use both hands to take the turn onto his street, “Bob, I’m _so sorry_ ,”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Bob interrupted, “This is _not_ on you, Joseph. This is on that creepy fuck. Did you tell him to leave you alone?”

“I may have told him if I saw him on my driveway again, I’d run him over,” Typer admitted, not feeling guilty in the slightest. “And I also told him that we weren’t friends and whatever he thought was going on between us absolutely wasn’t.”

“Good,” Bob sighed, “I’m gonna let this go this time, but next time…”

“Maybe we should call the cops,” Tyler hesitated, “Just to...let them know? Those lists I looked at said I should let the cops know.”

“I’ll give Frank a call tomorrow, if you want,” Bob offered, “Have he and Toro stop by to take a statement or something. I’m sure the rest of the guys would be willing to make statements about how fucking creepy he is, if you want.”

“Yeah,” Tyler bit his lip, pulling into his driveway. He blinked when he realized that the Chevrolet had still been following him and now drove past to park in a different drive way. Just a little down the line, the pink house. Tyler’s blood first ran hot and then cold and then hot again as he watched Byron get out of the car, stare at Tyler for a few seconds, and then disappear into his own house.

“Tyler?” Bob called, “You still there?”

“That _fucker_ ,” Tyler seethed, the concern and fear being buried under a new wave of anger, “Bob, he _followed me home_ ,”

“He what?”

“He must have figured out what animal hospital I was at and he _followed me home_ ,”

“Tyler, that’s -”

“He drives a _fucking Suburban,_ Bob,” Tyler slammed his fist into the wheel, “He drove Jon off the road!”

“...I’m calling Frank now.” Bob decided. “Just head inside. I’ll be there in half an hour.”

-

“So just to go over everything one more time,” Officer Iero - Frank, Bob’s friend from his academy days - leaned over his notepad and the mug of coffee Tyler had given him when he’d shown up to take statements.

“We’ve got harassment at your workplace and accosting your co-workers about your personal relationships, hurting your animal and costing you around six hundred bucks, tracking you to and following you home from the animal hospital and possibly breaking and entering. On top of that, you want it known that you suspect your neighbor of both running your friend off the road, leading to a mild concussion, after he and his boyfriend spent the night, putting nails in Brian’s tires while he and Bob were spending the night, and also of attacking Bob the same night that he followed you home .”

“I got off pretty late, around six,” Tyler crossed his arms, “And I was at the hospital until nearly nine.”

“I got off around seven,” Bob nodded, “I left through the back, like usual, and was waiting for Brian to pick me up when someone tried to choke me out from behind. I clocked ‘em a good one in the face but they wiggled out and got away before I could get a good look at their face.”

“Any proof of that?” Frank frowned, tapping his paper, “Cameras?”

“I think the record store has a camera out there,” Tyler tried to think, remember any cameras located in the back alley, “They might have caught some of it on there. And I know the hospital has cameras on their parking lot.”

“And Brian’s mechanic just told him it looked like the nails had been purposefully hammered into the tires,” Bob joined in, “We’ve got it written on the insurance forms.”

Frank made some notes on his notepad and nodded, finishing off his coffee and standing up.  
“I’ll ask around, see if I can get copies of those videos. Send me a copy of those forms too, Bob. If anything else happens, you need to let me know ASAP, okay, Tyler? If nothing else, we can get you a restraining order if he keeps up after today.”

“As long as he stays away from me,” Tyler tightened his crossed arms, shivering, “It just feels…fucking _wrong_ , you know?”

“Don’t worry,” Frank looked sympathetic, “This isn’t the first time we’ve dealt with something like this. I’ll look into him, see if he has any priors related to stalking or harassment. You’ve got my number now, call me anytime, okay? I’m also going to send a patrol car around the area every few nights, just to make sure nothing seedy is happening. I’d recommend getting a security system, something that alerts the police in the case of a break in and gives you a loud and proud warning that someone is trying to get in.”

“Thanks for coming out, Frank,” Bob stood up and they shook hands, pulled each other into a quick, backslapping hug, before they both stepped away and Frank shook Tyler’s hand too.

“I’d also recommend letting anyone you’re close to know what’s going on so they can be prepared. He might reach out to people on social media or people you’re close to to try to get any personal information that he can.”

“I will, Officer,” Tyler nodded, knowing that the look Bob was giving him meant _tell Josh_. He _would_. Tomorrow.

He followed Frank out, watched him get into the car and leave, and then closed and locked the front door. When he was done, he went to the back door in the laundry room and wedged a broom between the machines, blocking the doorway with the handle. It might not stop anyone coming in, but it would make a loud enough noise to warn anyone if the door was opened.

Bob was watching him from the doorway into the kitchen worriedly when he turned around.

“I didn’t want to scare you like this,” Bob sighed, “I was just worried,”

“It isn’t _you_ I’m scared of,” Tyler admitted.

“Do you want me to stay tonight?” Bob asked, moving aside to let Tyler walk back into the kitchen, where he stared at the loaf of bread thoughtfully and wondered if he should make himself eat. He decided against it, knowing his stomach would just protest trying to force anything into it at the moment.

“No, it’s okay,” Tyler sighed, “You’ve already done a lot, Bob. Go home and sleep with your husband and recover from getting jumped in an alley by my crazy neighbor, okay?”

“Are you _sure_?” Bob didn’t look happy, “I don’t know if you being alone is safe right now, Ty.”

“I’ll be fine.” Tyler promised, glancing over at the set of kitchen knives he’d shoved into the corner of the counters when they’d first moved in. He didn’t often prepare meat, so he’d not had much use for them. At this point though, he was mentally _daring_ Byron to set foot in this fucking house after the shit he’d pulled today.

Bob stuck around for half an hour longer, checking all the windows on the first floor a few times before he finally agreed to leave. Tyler watched him drive away from the living room and then shut the curtains and made his way upstairs. He hadn’t been able to text Josh since he’d taken Mr. Meow to the hospital so he sent him a ‘ _sorry, been busy. I’m gonna head to bed, love you_ ’ and then collapsed into his mattress and slept.

-

He woke up to his phone ringing.

Without looking at the caller, he swiped left and pressed it to his ear, grunting something that could have possibly been a _hello_ into the receiver.

There was no answer on the other line but, as he woke up, he realized he could hear breathing.

“Hello?” He repeated, a little more coherently.

The line went dead.

He pulled the phone away to look at the number, unknown, and shook his head.

“Wrong number,” He said out loud and laid back down to stretch and then burrow back into his pillows to sleep.

Ten minutes later, he was jolted out of the light sleep he had managed to fall into by another call.

“Hello?” He sighed, more annoyed than angry when all he heard was the breathing again, “I think you have the wrong number.”

“Outside,” a low voice grunted and then the line went dead again.

“What the,” Tyler looked at the phone, looked at the barely lit sky, shoved his head back into his pillow and groaned.

Still, he needed to check out whatever was _outside_ that the _mysterious voice that totally wasn’t his crazy neighbor_ told him to look at or he might call again and Tyler had at least another hour before he needed to be awake.

He dragged himself out of bed, phone in hand in case he needed to call the cops or Bob quickly, and walked quickly and with purpose. If he had to tell Byron to leave him alone again, he would.

When he reached his front door, he stopped and briefly thought about what he was doing. He knew Byron was fully capable of violence and that he’d pissed him off last night.He also knew that there was no way he hadn’t noticed Frank’s police car or that Bob had been over even longer than the officer.

Before he went outside, he went to the knife block in the corner of the counters and grabbed the second biggest. He’d misplaced the largest - the big square one that he never used - sometime during the first days of unpacking so he settled for the long, jagged one he wasn’t sure had a purpose other than to look intimidating. After he’d tucked that into the pack of his pants - _carefully_ \- he opened the door to reveal - nothing. Until he looked down.

There, on the welcome mat Josh’s mom had given to them, set a bouquet of a dozen - he counted - bright, red roses.

Covering his eyes with his hand to avoid a headache he felt coming on, he closed the door, put the knife back, and went back to bed.

Minutes after he’d crawled back into the sheets, he got another phone call.

“Listen,” He snapped, answering again, “I don’t want the flowers, okay? Just leave me alone.”

“Um,” Josh said and Tyler’s eyes snapped open.

“Josh!” He yelped in surprise, panic nearly forcing him to spill the whole story, “Sorry, not you! I’ve been getting calls all morning about - fucking flowers,”

“It’s like….eight in the morning.”

“That’s why I’m upset,” Tyler said awkwardly, then changed the subject, “What’s up? It’s early where you are, how’s life?”

“It’s okay,” Tyler could _hear_ the shrug, “It’s just, you seemed...upset last night. Was everything okay?”

“Oh, um,” Tyler thought quickly, “Mr. Meow got hurt outside. I had to take him to the hospital and it took a really long time. Also we’re missing about six hundred from the bank and that’s why.”

“Is he okay?” Josh asked worriedly. He’d only known the cat for like two days but he already _loved_ it. Tyler wouldn’t know what to say if Byron _had_ hurt him more than a broken bone.

“His front leg is messed up,” Tyler explained, “But it’s in a cast and he’ll be back to normal in a little over a month, they said? I had to leave him there overnight but I’m going to get him after work and then he’s an inside cat until the cast comes off.”

“You should have called,” Josh said and the drop in his voice was enough to make Tyler feel even more guilty. Guilty about lying and guilty about not calling Josh and guilty about wanting to keep Byron a secret because - because he’d lied when he’d told Bob not to tell Josh because he didn’t want him to worry. Tyler was _embarrassed_ , and he hadn’t wanted to tell Josh because a part of him was scared that Josh would think he’d been sneaking around behind his back, fucking around with the cute neighbor while he was away until Byron got too invested. Tyler didn’t want to tell Josh because he was scared Josh would think Tyler had brought this on himself and he knew, logically, that Josh loved him and would never think that but…

But he _had_ to tell him because if he was coming home and Byron was dangerous, Josh needed to know.

“I…” Tyler closed his eyes and laid back down, “Josh, I need to tell you something.”

“It sounds important,” Josh said, and Tyler could hear the sudden apprehension, “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” Tyler said, and then softer, “No.”

“Ty, what’s going on?”

Tyler covered his eyes with his arm and bit his lip, feeling his face heating up.

“I,” he breathed out slowly, tried to keep his voice steady, “I just, it wasn’t my fault, okay? I didn’t do _anything_ to encourage him, or I didn’t _mean_ to,”

“Tyler, what happened?” Josh’s voice went a little louder, some sort of hybrid of impatience and worry.

“Our neighbor may be stalking me,” Tyler got out in one breath, the words so fast even _he_ barely understood.

“Say it again?” Josh asked, “Tyler, I can’t understand you, you need to calm down.”

Tyler realized that he was breathing pretty fast, actually, that he was nearly panting. His throat was tight, his face hot, eyes beginning to sting.  His stomach was rolling.

“I -” He said again, stopped and held his tongue for a second until he felt like he could talk again, “Our neighbor may or may not be stalking me.”

“Oh my God,” Josh’s voice jolted to an even louder level, “Tyler, are you okay? What happened?”

“Are you mad?” Tyler couldn’t help but ask, voice small.

“Of course I’m not mad!” Josh softened his voice, “Tyler, baby, of course I’m not mad at you.”

“I just,” Tyler sniffed, couldn’t uncover his eyes because it felt like his arm was the only thing holding everything back from falling apart, “I don’t want you to - to think that I, that this was _me_ , like I asked for it, because I _didn’t_ , I don’t know what I did but I didn’t mean to,”

“Hey, hey,” Josh soothed, “Baby, this wasn’t you, this wasn’t anything _you_ did. Are you okay? What’s he been doing?”

Tyler inhaled sharply, tried to get himself back under control, and told Josh everything that had been happening lately, up to and including the calls and the flowers outside.

“I just - he _attacked_ Bob, Josh,” Tyler sniffed, “And I’m scared that you might get hurt if you come home,”

“I’m coming home,” Josh said firmly, “As soon as I can. Have you called the police about the flowers?”

“Not yet,” Tyler  admitted, “You called first.”

“Hang up on me and call them,” Josh told him, “I’m going to ask around for a replacement so I don’t leave Demi high and dry and then I’m coming home, okay?”

“Josh, wait,” Tyler stopped him, “Wait, okay? You’re coming home in two weeks. You’re having a good time on this tour, I don’t want you to come home early if you like what’s going on. I promise he hasn’t tried to hurt me and I’ll tell you _immediately_ if he does, but you don’t need to come home early.”

“Tyler,” Josh said, incredulous, “Our neighbor is _stalking_ you, of course I’m coming home.”

“It isn’t that I don’t want you to,” Tyler tried to explain, “Just...Josh, this tour was really important to you.”

“ _You’re_ more important than any tour,” Josh argued and Tyler felt his lips twitch up just a little.

“I know,” He finally exhaled, “I know, Josh. But I’m not in danger and you’ve got plans to come back in a few weeks. Byron’s already ruined enough, hasn’t he? I don’t want him to ruin the tour, too.”

“...Are you sure?” Josh asked, not entirely convinced, “I won’t come home if you want me to stay here until the break but I swear to God, I’ll get on a plane right now if you want me home.”

“I always want you home,” Tyler rolled his eyes, “But I also want you to do what you love and that means going on this tour. I'll be _fine_ , Josh. I promise.”

“And you’ll call the cops after we hang up?”

“As soon as,” Tyler stared at the ceiling, biting his lip to stop himself from begging Josh to fly home _right then_ , “I will.”

“If this is what you want...But if he does anything, and I mean _anything_ , that makes you feel unsafe, I’m coming home, okay?”

“Okay,” Tyler nodded, feeling his chest beginning to loosen. The relief he felt that Josh knew, that Josh didn’t blame him, was nearly enough to make him giddy.

“Call the cops now, babe,” Josh said firmly, breaking Tyler from the thought, “And then text me later,”

“I’ll tell you what they said,” Tyler bit his lip, “And I’m going to pick up a security system with Ryan and Brian later,”

“Maybe don’t invite Byron,” Josh joked and it made the last of Tyler’s apprehension bleed away. If they could joke, they would be okay.

“Definitely,” He agreed, “I love you,”

“I love you,” Josh paused, “Thanks for telling me, Ty.”

The line went dead and Tyler took a second to calm his nerves, text Bob ‘ _i told josh_ ’ and then find Frank’s number and call it.

“Officer Iero,” Frank’s voice answered, half asleep and a tiny bit out of it, “Emergency?”

“Oh shit,” Tyler face-palmed, “Officer, I’m so sorry. I should have waited to call.”

“Tyler?” Frank asked, sounding more awake, “Is everything okay?”

“Um, you just, last night, said I should report anything that happens, right?”

“Did something happen?”

“Well,” Tyler frowned, suddenly feeling stupid, “I mean, nothing...big.”

“Anything counts in cases like this, Tyler,” Frank promised, finally fully awake. Tyler heard another muffled voice and Frank shushing then, quiet sounds of bedsheets and _oh God_ , Tyler had called him _at home_. “Tell me what happened?”

“I got two phone calls from an unknown caller,” Tyler explained, sitting up in bed and running a hand through his hair, “He just...breathed for a few seconds and then hung up but the second time, he told me to go outside so I did and there were like, flowers? In front of my door?”

“Did you take them?” Frank asked and Tyler heard the scratching of pen on paper, Frank taking notes.

“No,” Tyler shook his head, even if Frank couldn’t see, “They were roses. A dozen roses. I don’t know if they’re still there, I just left them where I saw them.”

“Okay,” Frank finished writing whatever he was writing and then, “Tyler, if he tells you to do something like go outside again, maybe don’t listen, yeah? He could have been waiting for you.”

“It was stupid,” Tyler rubbed his face, “I just, he woke me up and he kept calling, so I thought if I just _did it_ ,”

“I get it,” Frank said, understanding, “Just, you know, exercise some caution, okay?”

“Yeah,” Tyler cracked a smile, “Seems smart. Sorry I woke you up at,” he looked at the clock, “Jesus, eight-thirty in the morning.”

“Whenever, man,” Frank laughed, sounding tired but good natured, “Fuck, I’m here for public safety and all that shit, right? Call me whenever you need me, an off-duty cop is still a cop.”

“I will. Thanks, Frank.”

“No problem,”

Tyler hung up after that, checked to see that his alarm was fifteen minutes away from going off, and got up early to shower and make a real breakfast. He’d be picking up Mr. Meow after his shift ended around four so he made sure that all of his usual places were cleared up, including the kitchen counter, and the bowls he’d bought to put food and water in were in their proper places before he finally packed up to go. The flowers were still there when he opened the door and, resolutely, he picked them up and took them to the end of the drive after locking the door. He was sure Byron was watching and he was still _angry_ about last night, so he dropped the flowers in the trash with great relish and a little more fanfare than probably warranted before he got into his car and left.

-

“Roses?” Ryan rolled his eyes, “That’s so last season.”

“I didn’t know flowers went out of season as gifts,” Brendon frowned, and then turned quickly to Tyler, “Not that I think they were cool or romantic in this scenario. Because they aren’t. Those were totally creepy as hell flowers.”

Tyler smiled, taking a sip of the new blend Spencer was trying out. Like all of his coffees and teas, the blend was delicious and Tyler was digging it. It was Bob’s day off but Spencer was manning the counter along with, technically, Tyler. Really, though, Brendon and Ryan had stolen him away during the lull to gossip while Spencer puttered around the counter, making possible new menu items for Tyler and his boyfriends to try out. Ryan’s domain was the kitchen, which he ruled through Patrick’s iron fist, but Spencer’s true calling were the coffee machines and the different tea blends he’d begun to make with advice from the kind West Bengal woman who ran the Indian store a few doors down. There were four other customers in the store, all situated around the room and doing their own things, two women on a date in the corner that the college students had taken over the day before, another woman sitting on the couch with a cup of iced coffee and her laptop and a man typing insistently on his phone with the same empty mug of tea he’d had for the last half hour in the middle of the cafe at one of the square tables. Tyler liked to watch them, had a habit of picking out certain regulars - like the iced coffee woman - and spot new things about them. She’d changed her hair since the last time he’d made her regular order, cut it shorter but left it long enough to put in a cute side braid, and Tyler had complimented her on it when she’d come in.

She had smiled brightly and thanked him but, the moment the compliment had left his mouth, Tyler had wondered if he was coming off as creepy. If he was coming off like _Byron_ came off.

“Everything goes out of season at some point,” Ryan said, pulling Tyler back into the conversation. “You don’t see me getting any of _you_ flowers,”

“You gave Jon flowers yesterday,”

“ _Brendon_ ,” Ryan sighed, like Brendon had just said something so incredibly stupid that Ryan couldn’t help but shake his head, “Those were _get well soon_ flowers, not _I love you_ flowers.”

“Aren’t all flowers _I love you_ flowers if you give them to your boyfriend?” Spencer mentioned offhandedly from the counter, just a few feet away, and Ryan gave him a betrayed look.

Instead of answering that, Ryan just shook his head and gave Tyler a _see what I deal with_ look, which Tyler returned with an understanding look of his own. Really, he had no idea. One boyfriend was hard enough when that boyfriend was also his best friend. He had no idea how any of the guys managed three separate relationships.

“The point,” Ryan said firmly, “Is that this guy is a total creep and an even bigger loser, and I’m glad Bob socked him.”

“Me, too,” Jon stretched in place, not moving much from the armchair he’d taken over aside from arching away from it to stretch his back out for a few seconds. When his bones had seemingly realigned, he slumped back into the same position as before, a little sleepy but otherwise recovering well.

“I wish there was something I could do,” Tyler looked at the table, “I _know_ he’s the one who ran you off the road, Jon. I _know_ he did it, but…”

“But we don’t have proof,” Spencer said simply, “Tyler, you can’t beat yourself up,”

“Besides,” Jon smiled, “I had my sweet baby insured to the nines. We got enough back to give her a sick paint job,”

“He means we got enough back to get the dents banged out and then a little extra to buy some paint and let Ryan go wild,” Brendon clarified, grinning, “It has Mystery Machine flowers on it now.”

“Now I just need a dog and I’ll be able to live my lifelong dream of being Shaggy.” Jon chimed in.

“Like zoinks, dude,” Ryan deadpanned and Tyler covered his mouth to stop himself from laughing out loud. Brendon had no such problem and snorted tea all over the table, making both Ryan and Spencer yell in surprise and disgust, which led to Brendon laughing harder and even Jon beginning to giggle from his chair. Tyler pushed away from the table, trying to catch his breath from laughing so hard, and barely felt his phone start to vibrating through the material of his pants.

Feeling the amusement drain a little, he glanced at the screen - unknown caller - and ignored the call with a firm swipe of his thumb. When he looked back at the table, Brendon, Jon and Ryan were still arguing and laughing in equal measure, but Spencer was giving him a look from the counter.

He shook his head, a _don’t worry_ gesture, and ignored the phone when it started vibrating again.

It kept vibrating, small pauses inbetween missed calls, for another five minutes, until Tyler finally just put the damn thing on silent and ignored it the rest of his shift.

When he was safely in his car, doors locked and Brendon watching through the window, he pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the screen. One hundred and three calls from an unknown number, nineteen texts - from at least three different numbers - and thirty voice mails; a full inbox.

Feeling sick, he screenshotted the notifications on the home screen, unlocked it and scrolled through the missed calls - starting from during the time he was hanging out with the guys all the way to ten minutes earlier. The first text he opened was the first he’d received, around four - two hours ago.

All it read was ‘ _I’m sorry, Tyler_ ,’

Every text after that, except for a single one from Josh, said the same thing. He tried the first voice mail, out of sick curiosity maybe, but all he got was over two minutes of heavy breathing and nothing else. He had a feeling that it was all the same.

He opened Josh’s text last, barely holding himself together.

‘ _Love you_ ’

‘ _Love you <3_’ he sent back and then made sure it was still on silent and set it on the passenger seat, face down.

He waved at Brendon, pulled out of the mall parking lot, and headed for the hospital first to pick up Mr. Meow. He already had the plan in his mind that he would get the cat settled, call Frank to report all the calls and maybe send him the screenshot, then call Josh and distract himself with his boyfriend and maybe watch a movie and chill out.

Almost immediately after he’d pulled out of the parking lot, a silver Suburban was on his tail. Tyler refused to react other than grabbing his phone, ignoring the incoming call, and taking a picture of the car through his side mirror. When that was settled, he kept driving, pretending it was a normal day, a normal drive, that his heart wasn’t beating out of his chest with every mile that passed that the Suburban stayed on him.

He reached the animal hospital and, when he turned in, the Suburban kept going, but Tyler wasn’t fooled.

There was nothing he could do for the moment, though, so he just made sure he had his wallet and went in to pick up his cat.

Hayley, the receptionist, gave him a run down of the recovery procedures, gave him an update on how Mr. Meow had handled the pain meds he was on and when to give him more and then disappeared for a few minutes while Tyler filled out paperwork to retrieve the cat they’d spent the last fifteen minutes talking about.

When she brought him out, he was sleepy and limp and wrapped back up in the jacket Tyler had give up the night before and, truthfully, Tyler forgot all about the money spent and all the paperwork he’d had to sign because he could hug that stupid fucking cat again and Mr. Meow purred tiredly at him and went to sleep in his arms because his pain meds were mild sedatives. He had a splinted leg, a metal brace wrapped with a tight bandage that Tyler had instructions not to touch unless something was wrong, but Dr. Ballato assured him that she thought he was going to make a full recovery.

He went in the passenger seat, curled up as best he could, and slept peacefully the whole way home. The Suburban followed Tyler again but Tyler just snapped another picture and sent it the bird while they were both parked at a red light. When he pulled up to his house, there were more flowers - individual ones - maybe spelling something out on the driveway? He ran them over without even trying to decipher what they made, then back up so he could run over them again. He pulled Mr. Meow across the middle of the seats and held him securely, made sure he had his phone and keys ready to unlock the door the moment he got to it and got out of the car quickly, a few keys tucked between his fingers like a set of spiked knuckle busters - another tip he’d picked up from the internet.

“Tyler!” He heard from behind him, Byron’s familiar voice, but didn’t stop, “Tyler! Did you get my messages? I tried calling a few times but I wasn’t sure if my calls were going through, did you not like the roses? I just was trying to apologize for yesterday, what I did was entirely uncalled for and I’m _so sorry_ about the cat,”

Tyler firmed up his face, unlocked his door and walked inside, closing it firmly behind him. He hoped that that would be the end of it but, while he was making Mr. Meow comfortable on the couch, an insistent knocking on his door forced his attention back.

He tried to ignore it but, ten minutes later, when it was still going on, he finally gave in and stomped back to the front door, throwing it open.

“Tyler,” Byron sighed, looking relieved, and the side of his face was an angry, molten bruise, “I-”

“I’m going to say this once,” Tyler interrupted, glad that he was angry enough that any guilt he felt for hurting Byron’s feeling was buried, “I’ve already filed a report with the police about what you did to my cat. I _know_ that you’re the one that ran Jon off the road and put nails in Brian’s car, and don’t think I don’t know who put that bruise on your face. I don’t want _anything_ to do with you. I meant what I said, Byron. If I see you in my driveway again, I _will_ run you over. _Stop_ following me, _stop_ harassing and _hurting my friends_ , and stop _talking to me_.”

“But-”

“Ah,” Tyler held up a hand, “Stop.”

“I just want -”

“No,” Tyler said sharply, firmly. He had to be _firm_. “You’re not listening. I don’t _care_ what you want. _I_ want you to _leave me alone_.”

“Tyler, you don’t _understand_ , I ju-”

He moved to slam the door shut but Byron stopped him, shoving against it violently, looking desperate, and Tyler reacted without thinking - pulling back and swinging his first forward and directly into Byron’s face.

Byron reeled back, yelling out in shock and pain, and Tyler took his chance to shut and lock the door, immediately pulling out his phone to dial Frank, hands shaking fiercely.

“Tyler,” Frank answered on the second ring, “What -”

“He just tried to come in,” Tyler gasped, his throat closing up, “He - he followed me home again and he kept _knocking_ , I was just trying to make him leave me alone and he tried to push his way in and I - I hit him, oh God, I _punched_ him,”

“We’re on our way, Tyler,”

The knocking started again, more insistent than before, if that was even possible, louder and angrier.

“Tyler!” Byron shouted through the door, “ _TYLER_ ,”

Tyler made sure the living room blinds were down and the curtains drawn and then went to the couch and set down with Mr. Meow, petting him slow and methodic, trying to ignore Byron screaming his name. At this point, everyone on the street could surely hear him yelling and Tyler tucked his face against the back of the couch and pulled his legs onto the cushions, curled up with his drugged up, beaten cat and listened to Frank narrate what he should be doing.

The house was all columns and windows and Tyler had loved it at the time. He’d loved it, until he realized that so many windows meant more of Byron slamming his fist into them until they had to have cracked at least a little.

“You were supposed to be kind!” Byron yelled, muffled and yet amplified, like he was cupping his hands against the glass and yelling into it, “You were _SUPPOSED TO BE KIND AND CARING, TYLER_ ,”

And Tyler didn’t know how to respond to that so he just rocked, tried to breathe and failed, hid his face in the cat and shuddered against the couch he and Josh had picked out together at a yard sale two years ago, when they’d moved into the apartment that hadn’t had crazy neighbors together. Tyler suddenly and fiercely missed that apartment, missed it’s smallness and that they had barely any space because it was what amounted to a studio with an enlarged kitchen. He missed that they were on the fourth floor of the building even if it meant going up four flights of stairs and he missed that their porch was just a slab of concrete with a gate and that they only had the sliding glass doors for windows.

It took him what felt like years to realize that the beating against the glass and doors had stopped and that Frank was calling his name, gentle.

“Tyler? Can you let us in?”

“You’re here?” Tyler blinked slowly, eyes feeling heavy and crusted and he rubbed at them, realized he had been crying. Mr. Meow blinked drowsily at him. “Is he here?”

“He wasn’t when we got here,” Frank explained, “Can you open the door, Tyler?”

Tyler, slowly, set Mr. Meow aside - careful of his leg - and went to unlock the door. His hand froze on the lock, not entirely sure he _could_ unlock it.

“You’re _sure_ he isn’t there,”

“Tyler,” Frank knocked three times on the door, gentle, and Tyler heard it echo over the call, “It’s just us.”

Tyler unlocked the door and opened it. Frank dropped his phone and hung up, dressed in his usual suit and tie get up. His partner, a much taller man with curly, fluffed hair, smiled at Tyler reassuringly and Tyler stepped aside to let them in.

“This is my partner, Ray Toro. Toro, this is Tyler Joseph. Bob’s co-worker.”

“We’ve heard stories,” Toro offered his hand and Tyler shook it weakly, “Sorry we have to meet like this.”

“Thanks for coming,” Tyler found himself smiling, but it felt weird on his face. He wiped at his cheeks self-consciously, wondering if he looked as big a wreck as he felt. Toro shut and locked the door after he and Frank made their way inside and Tyler immediately felt better.

“Can you tell us what happened?” Frank asked, pulling out a familiar notepad, “I could hear a little, but not everything,”

“I,” Tyler hesitated, tried to think, “Sorry, my...my head’s a mess.”

“Understandable,” Toro nodded, “Take your time, okay?”

Tyler puttered around the kitchen for a few minutes to collect himself, shake the cloud from his brain, and make coffee. When he’d made enough for three and put them on the island for all three of them to stand around, he finally figured that he could talk.

“I called you this morning,” He started with, “Because of the phone calls...except they didn’t stop, and he filled my voice box with just _breathing_ , and a bunch of texts,”

He pulled his phone out, another missed call from the unknown caller notified on his screen, and opened his gallery to show Frank the screenshot, and then the pictures of the Suburban following him.

“He followed me from work to the animal hospital, and then back home, and he tried to talk to me when I got out of the car but I just ignored him and went inside to make Mr. Meow comfortable,”

“He’s okay?” Frank asked, sympathetic, and Tyler felt a little better, like Frank wasn’t just doing his job because it was his job.

“He’s okay,” He nodded, “A little sleepy from the meds and stuff, but he’ll be back to normal in a few weeks,”

“That’s good,” Frank looked down at his notes, “And why did you open the door, Tyler?”

“He just kept _knocking_ ,” Tyler took a big gulp of his coffee, barely felt that it burned the fuck out of his tongue, “I just wanted him to stop and I figured he thought I’d just been angry last night so I thought I could say it more calmly and he’d get the message but then, when I tried to shut the door, he like - he got angry and he stopped me and tried to come inside and I - I hit him and then locked the door and called you.”

Frank nodded, writing down what Tyler said. When he’d finished, he clicked the pen and looked at Toro, “I think we should pay this guy a visit, Ray.”

“Sounds good to me,” Toro nodded, arms crossed. He looked intimidating and Tyler felt reassured. If he sent these two over, of course Byron would leave him alone. Toro looked like he could break Byron over his knee, easy.

“Did you find anything on those cameras?” Tyler asked as Frank was putting away his notebook.

“The hospital is still getting back to me but I was able to review the record store’s stuff,” He shook his head, “The camera isn’t recording, it’s just a fake to scare people off.”

“He, um,” Tyler motioned to the side of his face, “Byron had a huge bruise on his face from where Bob hit him. I dunno if that helps but,”

“It’s evidence against him,” Frank promised, “We’re gonna go talk to him, okay? And if he keeps calling, just keep taking those screenshots. And save the messages.”

“It’s just,” Tyler shifted, “How did he get my number? None of my friends would have given it out,”

“You’d be surprised at how far people like him will go,” Toro shook his head, “He could have gone through your mail, dug around online until you popped up on some database or another,”

“Like I said,” Frank finished his coffee, “We’re gonna talk to him but, if he doesn’t stop, save them all. I’m gonna get the paperwork started for a restraining order; with your testimony and the statements from your friends on top of what I heard over the phone and blowing up your phone, we might have enough of a case.”

“It’s only been a couple weeks,” Tyler started to bite the nail of his thumb and then stopped when he realized what he’d been doing, “Is that long enough? Is a restraining order _necessary_ , like is that too far? Is it even _stalking_ if it’s only been less than three weeks?”

“There’s a lot of...research,” Toro said, “That’s gone into this kind of thing. Technically just one instance of obsessive behavior could be considered stalking and this is…quite a few more times than just once, not to mention you’ve had to spend the last nearly twenty four hours in a constant state of distress. You’ve got a strong case at this point, Tyler, and if he continues after we’ve spoken to him about it, we may have grounds for an arrest if he comes back onto your property or into your place of work. Plus, we’re looking into him now and if he has a history of this behavior...”

“Trespassing, motherfucker,” Frank snapped, “And if he is arrested or has a history, then your case is even _stronger_ for a restraining order.”

Tyler nodded slowly, thinking carefully, “Okay…Okay, yeah, if he comes back again I’ll take pictures or something, would that help?”

“Just keep documenting everything,” Toro nodded, “That helps a lot. And don’t delete anything until we’ve got copies of it all. You can probably come down to the station tomorrow, if that works, and we’ll take care of that,”

“Maybe after work?” Frank asked and Tyler continued to nod, “Great, we’ll expect you…?”

“After...four,” Tyler said, trying to remember his schedule. It had been wildly thrown off since Jon had been taken out of rotation, he and Bob and the other guys all working a few hours extra here and there to cover him, “Maybe around five? Is it okay if I bring someone with me?”

“Whatever you’re comfortable with,” Toro promised, straightening his tie, “Now, I think we need to go pay your neighbor a visit before it gets a little too late.”

“You’re right,” Frank straightened his hat, Tyler’s favorite part of the whole cliché look Frank had going, and nodded at Tyler in goodbye, “Thanks for having us, Mr. Joseph.”

“Thanks for coming so fast,” Tyler collected their mugs and put them in the sink, “I’m really grateful for all the work you’re doing.”

“It’s what we do,” Toro smiled, and then they were out of the door and down the line, at the pink house.

Tyler didn’t hear back from them but he did see them talk to _someone_ at the door and then drive away and he felt reassured enough that he relaxed.

Josh answered on the first ring when he called a few minutes later, curled up in their room with a sleepy Mr. Meow for an early night in.

“Hey, babe,” Josh said, voice crisp and clear, “How’s it going?”

“It’s going okay, now,” Tyler smiled, scratching Mr. Meow’s ears, “The cat's home.”

“How’s he doing?”

“Sleepy,” Tyler laughed, letting said cat move his fingers where he really wanted them, “A little grumpy but otherwise he seems okay. You have a show tonight?”

“Not tonight,” Josh grunted, as if he was lifting something, “Tomorrow, though.”

Tyler hummed to show he was listening, his eyes falling closed slowly as he relaxed into the mattress. Frank and Toro going to talk to Byron really had made him feel like a weight had been lifted. Still, he needed to tell Josh - because he’d _promised_. And he felt good about this, really, like the matter had been settled. Then again, Tyler figured, it could just be that he’d had a panic attack bad enough that he’d lost time less than an hour ago and he was still in shock.

“Okay, so,” Tyler started, “I need to tell you something but you can’t freak out, okay?”

“Okay,” Josh said, patient, “Now, switch our positions for a second. What the fuck made you think that you starting out with _you can’t freak out_ literally the day after you tell me you’re being harassed by our neighbor seemed like a good idea to you?”

“I see you’re point,” Tyler wilted, “But I raise you that the stalking is _done_ , finished, no longer a problem,”

“And I’m calling bullshit?” Josh scoffed, “What happened?”

“So I may have punched him,”

“Tyler!”

“He tried to come in!” Tyler defended, “So I decked him and locked him out and then called Frank, the officer Bob knows, you remember? And there may or may not have been some banging on the doors and windows, a few tears here and there, but Frank heard a lot of it on the phone and he and his partner came over to take a statement,”

“Did they arrest him?” Josh demanded and Tyler had to smile. Had Josh been home when this whole thing began, Tyler really doubted Byron would have gone so long without getting hit by one of them.

“He wasn’t on our property when they got here,” Tyler sighed, rubbing at Mr. Meow’s throat slowly as Mr. Meow twisted his head this way and that to get his fingers to certain places, “But they went and talked to him to let him know that if he didn’t stop, we’d be getting a restraining order. They said I had enough evidence and witness stuff to start the paperwork,”

“You really think it’ll stop him, though?” Josh asked hesitantly, “I dunno, Ty...This is great news, but,”

“I think it’s over,” Tyler tried to convince him, “I can definitely feel it.”

“You can feel it,” Josh said blankly and Tyler smiled, pictured him shaking his head, “Tyler,”

“Josh, I promise,” Tyler interrupted, “It’s done now, okay?”

“Are you okay?” He asked instead of continuing to argue, throwing Tyler off, “You said he was trying to get in?”

“Yeah,” Tyler shifted, uncomfortable at the memory, “It was….not great. But I’m okay, he’s not going to bother us anymore. Yeah?”

Josh didn’t answer for a few seconds and then, “Yeah, okay...okay, if you think it’s over.”

“I do,” Tyler said again, pushing away any doubts in his mind. It was over.

To prove it to himself, a few hours later, after he and Josh had talked about Josh’s day and plans for the week he’d be coming home, he didn’t even lock the bedroom door.

-

He had a dream that Josh was home, that he set on the bed beside Tyler and stroked his hair lovingly and, when he woke up alone, it was depressing enough that he had to text Josh about how much he missed him. Mr. Meow had moved to the foot of the bed, possibly when - at some point in the night that he had since forgotten - Tyler must have woken up for something because his bedroom door was cracked open. Tyler didn't think much of it - he had a habit of sleepwalking when he was stressed. He just got ready for work, made sure Mr. Meow had his medication and plenty of food and water, and left. No flowers waited for him, no Byron or phone calls or texts.

He breathed a sigh of relief, the feeling of tension releasing in his chest nearly enough to send him to his knees.

It wasn’t until he was at work, getting out of his car - because there was still no way he was walking _anywhere_ \- that he noticed that there was a small note tucked into the windshield wipers, folded small enough that it had been wedged against his car and not blown away in the wind.

He stood at the hood of the car, long enough that someone came out of the shop to check on him

“Tyler?” Bob knocked on the hood of the car, catching his attention, “What’s up?”

Tyler pointed, silent, at the note, but didn’t reach out for it.

“Did someone leave that?” Bob frowned and then frowned even harder, “Byron.”

Tyler nodded.

“Do you want me to throw it out?”

“I need to know what it says,” Tyler finally plucked up the courage to say, “I need to keep it for Officer Iero.”

He finally reached out for it, unfolded the square until the scrap, about the size of his palm, was fully unfolded in his hands.

“It’s a...poem,” Tyler said, skimming and trying not to read at the same time.

“What’s it say?” Bob asked, stepping forward and, licking his lips, Tyler started to read.

“Sometimes you’ve got to bleed to know that you’re alive and have a soul...b-but it takes someone to come around to show you how,” he paused, collected himself, “Though I’m weak and beaten down, I’ll slip away into this sound, the ghost of you is close to me, I’m inside-out, you’re underneath.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Bob frowned but Tyler wasn’t done.

“Can you save my heavy, dirty soul for me?”

“That’s…fucking messed up,” Bob frowned, “Really messed up, did he _threaten_ you?”

“I...think?” Tyler tapped the page thoughtfully, his insides all...moving, in a bad way. “Is this a metaphorical making me bleed or a literal one? Is it _me_ you or like... _him_ you? Does he want me to, what, _clean_ him?”

“Should we call Frank?”

Tyler hesitated then shook his head, “This was probably from yesterday. Frank and his partner went and talked to him last night and, other than this, he hasn’t called or texted me or anything. I think this was just...left over.”

“I mean,” Bob took the note and looked it over, “I dunno, man. Seems kind of risky to leave a threat to make you bleed to prove you have a soul, metaphor or not, to a warning from the police.”

Tyler took the note back, snapped a picture, and then crumpled it up and tossed it back into his car before he locked the doors, “I’ll give it to them later. I’ve got to go to the police station after work to let them extract all the voicemails and messages and stuff, anyway. Do you…would you come with me?”

“Of course,” Bob thought quickly, “I’m off around noon but I’ll wait for you.”

“I don’t get off until four,” Tyler hesitated but Bob waved him off.

“I can hang out upstairs, I doubt the guys will mind.”

Tyler nodded, plans made, and forced the poem from his head. He and Bob went inside, waving off the concern of their friends quickly and they got to work, just in time for the morning rush to hit and swamp the whole place until nearly eleven.

The rest of the day was slow, even the rushes mild compared to the usual, and Tyler tried his best to keep his mind off Byron, off Mr. Meow home alone with a broken leg, off Josh close to the other side of the country and still nearly two weeks away from coming home, of maybe Frank and Toro’s warning not doing the job they’d all hoped it would. He tried to remember the dream he’d had last night but the feeling of phantom hands in his hair wasn’t pleasant now that he was awake and he quickly put a stop to that line of thought, shoving his own hands through the strands until the feeling was gone. By the time Bob’s shift had ended and he had settled upstairs with Jon for some relaxing television and it was just Spencer and Tyler on the counter, Tyler had tried so hard to distract himself that all he could think about was distracting himself.

“Tyler,” Spencer stopped him, negating what would have been Tyler’s third spilled cup since that morning, “Maybe you should head out early,”

“What?” Tyler balked. He had only ever been sent home once in his time working at Panic!, and it had been when he and Josh were still figuring their shit out and had had a blow out the night before, “Spencer! Sorry, I swear I’ll get my head on straight, I -”

“It’s not a punishment, idiot,” Spencer stopped him, setting the nearly spilled coffee aside to pour the patiently waiting woman a new cup with the proper amount of caramel and whipped cream.

Tyler had nearly given her plain black.

When she was taken care of and on her way out and the cafe was full but no one coming to the counter for an order, Spencer turned back to Tyler, “Look, we’ve been slow all day. You and Bob are going to the police station, right? Just take off a little early and go now, okay?”

“Are you sure?” Tyler fidgeted, “I don’t want to make things hard for you. I’m off in like three and a half hour, I can wait -”

“Tyler,” Spencer smiled, “Go.”

Relieved, Tyler started to untie his apron, “You’re my favorite, Spencer.”

“I know,” Spencer laughed and Tyler hung up the apron before making his way into the kitchen, to the door in the corner and up the stairs to the apartment that Spencer and his boyfriends shared.

Bob was sitting in a chair in the living room, Jon and Ryan on the couch and Brendon laying on the floor, a comic hanging over his face.

“Spencer let me off early,” Tyler rubbed his face, “Sorry to interrupt,”

“Don’t worry,’ Bob stood up, giving the black-and-white, and no doubt Ross-approved, movie on the screen a distasteful look, “Let’s go. We’ll see you guys tomorrow,”

“Good luck, Tyler!” Brendon waved at him, “Remind them that we’re willing to sign whatever!”

“Thanks,” Tyler smiled, following Bob down the stairs, “See you tomorrow!”

He and Bob slipped out of the front door, waving at Spencer as they went, and Bob found the crumpled paper and spread it out on the dashboard carefully while Tyler drove.

“This poem really creeps me out,” Bob mentioned offhandedly, not taking his eyes off the paper, his brow furrowed. “Not my favorite part of this whole stalker thing.”

“I’m not worried,” Tyler said firmly, despite the small bubbles of doubt in his stomach, “I’m just gonna give it to them just in case, but I’m not worried.”

“Well, _I_ am,” Bob decided, “This is bullshit. You can’t just leave shit like this on someone’s car.”

“Technically,” Tyler started and then stopped when Bob gave him a look.

They changed the subject and talked about other things on the drive to the station, nearly twenty minutes away, and avoided talk of Byron and poetry and metaphor. Tyler had’t written anything since Josh had gone. He was sure that, in a few weeks, when things weren’t so sensitive and painful, when he could stop looking behind his shoulder the whole time they drove - the road clear of any silver Suburbans - he would have new ideas. The sounds of terror, of a slow, dripping sickness in someone’s stomach. Music that put into words the feelings he’d been having for nearly three days now, for longer than that if he was honest.

But that was for after the police station, Tyler decided on. After the station, after Byron really had left him alone, maybe after he really had got a restraining order. After Josh was home and Tyler stopped feeling so alone in their house.

After things went back to normal.

They reached the station after what felt like years of Tyler pushing around the night before in his head. He hadn't told Bob about the whole…punching Byron thing but he thought Bob might be a little more upset about Byron trying to come in than even Tyler had been. Still, Tyler didn't really wanna get into it when he was just going to do it again inside so he waited until they’d checked in and were taken back to Frank’s desk before he mentioned it.

“He _what_?” Bob asked, turning to look from Tyler to Frank, aghast.

“Don’t worry,” Tyler patted his arm, “I took care of it, yeah? Taken care of,” he motioned to the paperwork in front of them, “Look at all the stuff that is taking care of it.”

“Chill, Bob,” Frank leaned back in his chair, balancing a pen on his finger casually, “We gave him a good dressing down. You know how Toro likes to bend the rules a little. It was like we were back in Jersey for a second!”

“Great,” Bob rubbed his face, “Now he has police brutality on his side,”

“It isn’t police brutality,” Frank scoffed, “We just...let him know that he’d better leave Joseph here alone or else.”

“Or else,” Tyler smiled, feeling warm, “Sounds good to me.”

“Me, too,” Frank smiled back and tossed him the pen, “Just sign that paper and we’ll pull copies of all the texts and voicemails.”

“And then I can delete them?” Tyler asked, itching to get any trace of Byron off of his phone,

“Then you can delete them,” Frank confirmed, “We’ll have records and you can fill out a report, too.”

“Oh,” Bob pulled the poem out of his pocket and handed it to Tyler, who placed it on Frank’s desk.

“I found this on my car this morning,” Tyler explained, shifting uncomfortably, “I took a picture of it, but...I think it was from yesterday, before you went to talk to him.”

Frank skimmed the paper, frowning thoughtfully, and finally set it aside, “Do you mind if I make a copy?”

“You can keep the fucking original,” Tyler shivered, “I sure as hell don’t want it.”

Frank nodded and reached into his desk, rummaging around until he pulled out a plastic bag and slipped the note inside, “I’ll put it in the file.”

“Great,” Tyler signed the paper quickly and then handed his phone to Frank, who connected it to a USB already connected to a laptop on the desk. He tapped a few keys and clicked a few buttons and then set back, “Copying now. Now, this is gonna copy everything on the phone. You know that?”

“Oh no,” Tyler shrugged, “You’ll see the riveting memes my boyfriend and I send back and forth and the dirty deets of the inner workings of a cafe, not to mention the sixty pictures of food, cats, whipped cream doodles, and Josh.”

“Okay, okay,” Frank laughed, showing the palms of his hands, “I get it, nothing to hide, nothing to fear,”

“One thing to fear,” Bob leaned forward, crossing his arms and watching the computer thoughtfully, “We still need to get you a security system, Tyler,”

“Tomorrow,” Tyler decided, “I think I’m just gonna go home and pass out early tonight, you know? This has been...stressful.”

“I’ll say,” Frank stretched out, “Get comfortable, guys, this’ll take about half an hour.”

It ended up taking closer to forty-five minutes but Tyler wasn’t bothered. Frank had reassured him that there was plenty of evidence to get the ball rolling for a restraining order, and that Byron _had_ popped up in the system with complaints from his ex-wife of harassment. They could drop the matter later if Byron really had been scared off, but Frank wouldn’t recommend it because things between Byron and his exe had been violent toward the end . While they waited, and Tyler digested that Byron had lied about his wife and also about working at Payless - he lived off of his dead parent’s life insurance, according to Frank - he also filled out the report Frank mentioned.

By the time he and Bob left, Tyler’s phone back in his pocket, it was closer to two and Tyler was ready to be home and sleep on all of this new information. There was a spot on the side of the bed that would have been Josh’s where the sun filtered in through the window perfectly, a good spot for sunbathing that both Mr. Meow and Tyler had taken advantage of a few times and Tyler wanted to strip down to his boxers and stretch into that spot for the next few hours and catnap.

“It can take months,” Bob was saying when his phone rang, “But if Byron comes near you again, they can give you an order of protection, which is kind of like an emergency restraining order that legally requires he stay away from you until the court date,”

Tyler wrinkled his nose at the thought, “Really, Bob, I don’t think it’s gonna be a problem. I think he’s got the hint. You’re phone’s ringing, by the way,”

Bob, who obviously hadn’t noticed in his intent on making sure Tyler knew his options, cursed and answered with a gruff, “Hey,”

There was what sounded like angry cursing on the other line, some sort of commotion, and Bob pinched the bridge of his nose, “Okay, Bri. Yeah, I’ll figure something out. Stop - don’t, hey,” Bob’s voice turned insistent, “I’ll figure something out, calm down. Let me call around,”

“Is everything alright?” Tyler glanced over, quick to turn his eyes back to the busy highway they were on.

“Brian’s business partner stole his car,” Bob rubbed his forehead, like he could just scrub at the stress lines until they disappeared along with the stress, “He’s stuck at the office and he’s got an early morning meeting with an important client,”

“He _stole_ his car?”

“Something about going to make a declaration at the airport a few hours from here,” Bob said through gritted tears and Brian must have been upset because Bob only ever got that stormy look when someone was really fucking with his husband, “Bri, I swear to God, I will get you something by morning, it’s okay. I’m with Tyler right now but when we get back to the cafe, I’ll call a few people and see if I can rent a car on short notice,”

Tyler frowned, nudging him, “Don’t be stupid, you can just use mine,”

Bob turned to look at him, still frowning but less angry, “You’re gonna strand yourself in your house with a creepy neighbor watching you?”

Tyler scoffed, “Bob, I told you. The police took care of it, right? You can just drop it back off in the morning when I come into work.”

“...I’m going to come to your house in the morning,” Bob decided, “No walking.”

“No walking,” Tyler smiled, shaking his head, and Bob - with one more firm look - went back to Brian.

“Tyler’s letting us borrow his car...No, he’ll be okay, he’s absolutely certain the police took care of it...Yeah, I’ll bring it back in the morning and pick him up for work, he’s got a later shift. See? Was that so hard? You’re going to give yourself a heart attack.”

Tyler smiled, listening to Bob lecture Brian and - Tyler was _absolutely certain_ \- Brian lecture Bob in return. It was a relationship built on the two of them trying to out-mother and take the piss out of each other all at once.

Bob finally said his goodbyes just as Tyler was turning onto his street. His eyes jumped from his own house to Byron’s. Unlike Tyler and Josh’s place, Byron’s was a little more modern and had a detached garage at the top of his drive. The drive was empty and, though the door had been left up, so was the garage. Tyler’s fingers relaxed a little on the steering wheel. At least he wouldn’t have to deal with _that_ problem, if it still was a problem, today.

“Thanks for this,” Bob sighed when Tyler had pulled in and stopped the car, “Brian was about to lose his shit.”

“Dude,” Tyler rolled his eyes, “You should have just _assumed_ and put him out of his misery. Make sure to punch his partner out whenever he gets back from his...grand gesture, or whatever,”

Bob shook his head, sighing hard, “Bill’s a fucking asshole and should have just bought a snake instead of stealing Brian’s fucking car. We _just got new tires_ ,”

“You’re car is destined to get fucked in other people’s drama,” Tyler said with sympathy and handed his keys over, “See you tomorrow.”

“I might call in a few hours,” Bob warned, “Make sure you’re okay,”

“Thanks, _mom_ ,”

“Change your underwear,” Bob rolled his eyes and hopped over the gap between seats when Tyler got out. “Answer my call, dickhead.”

“Make sure your husband doesn’t burst all the blood vessels in his body out of stress,” Tyler pointed back down the road, trying to stop from grinning. Bob gave him a thumbs up and Tyler watched him leave and then went inside, locking the door behind him. Offhandedly, he checked the laundry room and was happy to see that the broom they’d wedged in front of the door was still firmly in place.

Mr. Meow was lounging on the island in a sunspot and Tyler ruffled his fur on the way past, getting lazily batted at for his efforts before he left the kitchen and made his way up the stairs. It felt weird, skipping the second to top step after Byron had been the one to tell him that information, but it really did make a hideous noise and Tyler had grown used to the little trick.

He did exactly as he’d planned, stripping and throwing his clothes into the slowly growing pile of laundry he needed to do, plugged his phone in to charge and collapsed into the sun-warmed spot on the bed without bothering to climb under the blankets. When Josh got home, Tyler wouldn’t get nearly as much free access to it for awhile so he decided to take advantage of it and got comfortable. Between one second and the next, he slipped into a light sleep.

-

He woke up to the sound of the broom clattering to the wooden floor of the laundry room.

He went still, flight-or-freeze choosing _freeze_ , and didn’t make a noise, just stared out at the window. The light was still strong - he couldn’t have been sleeping for more than an hour, judging by the sun still hitting him.

Mr. Meow hissed from downstairs, nearly howled in anger and he heard whoever had come in hiss back as if to scare that cat away.

“Shut up, you stupid thing,” _Byron_ ’s voice drifted up the stairs, not trying to keep silent at all.

“You’re lucky Tyler loves you, you know?” Byron continued and then his footsteps left the kitchen, heavy boots on the wooden floor. Without thinking, Tyler rolled off the bed as quietly as he could and crawled under it. He was in his fucking boxers, his phone on the table next to the bed and he realized just how vulnerable he was seconds too late, the brown boots he’d never really taken the time to notice before appearing in his bedroom doorway - he’d left the door _open_ , hadn’t even bothered to close it because he’d wanted so hard to believe that it had been _over_.

The boots paused in the doorway and Tyler couldn’t do anything but stare at them, take in the pale brown material, the rough shoestrings tied loosely, the thick and obsessively cleaned bottoms. He was wearing skinny jeans, tight fighting and a little too short for him and, when Tyler saw a familiar rip just a few inches above the ankle, _Josh’s_.

 _What the fuck_ , Tyler thought to himself, _What the fuck, what the **fuck** ,_

Had Byron been _stealing_ Josh’s clothes?

Tyler’s mind shot back to only a few days after he’d moved in, when he couldn’t find Josh’s shirt. When Byron had come into the cafe in the same shirt he’d been looking for - a size too small for him, maybe, but a good fit for Josh.

Tyler pressed his face to the floor and forced himself to keep breathing, silent and slow, not to let his pounding heart and panic give him away. There was no telling what Byron would do if he found him.

The boots finally moved and Tyler watched, terror mounting, as Byron walked over to the table and set down on the bed. After a second, Byron kicked off the boots and _laid down in the bed_. Tyler covered his head with his arms, like he was bracing for a storm, and wondered if this was how he was going to die. Lying under his bed in his underwear, his crazy neighbor on top of him without even knowing, fucking _sniffing his pillows._

Byron sighed out and it sounded too much like a moan for Tyler’s liking. In fact, _none_ of this was to Tyler’s liking. His bones felt like lead. His throat was closing up.

Byron grunted, the bed squeaking a little and Tyler squeezed his arms tighter, held back any noises that may have wanted to escape. Usually never one to stay still for long, Tyler was as frozen has he’d ever been in his life, trying hard not to think about what Byron could be doing while sniffing his pillow and grunting.

It felt like hours before Byron finally sighed and Tyler heard him stretching out, ruffling the blankets and pillows.

Tyler would normally be getting home soon. Tyler had no idea what time it was, but Bob had dropped him off around two thirty and he couldn’t have been asleep longer than an hour. Unless Byron was planning on Tyler walking in on him _masturbating in his bed_ , he’d have to leave soon.

That was all Tyler could tell himself, over and over. Byron would have to leave soon. Byron would have to leave soon.

Tyler’s phone vibrated, a text, but it reminded him of Bob - that Bob was supposed to be calling. Bob was supposed to be calling and, if Tyler didn’t answer, Bob would come to check on him. Hope, burning, blossomed. He just had to wait for that call.

“Tyler forgot his phone!” Byron was abruptly sitting up, so fast that the bed rocked and Tyler was _terrified_ that, somehow, it had moved enough to reveal him - tucked underneath and on the opposite side to where Byron was sitting but only fucking centimeters from view if Byron were to walk to Josh’s side.

“Kind and caring,” Byron said fondly, as if he and Tyler were _friends_ , as if he had any right to sound so fondly exasperated, “But forgetful.”

He leaned over, feet spreading to support his elbows, and Tyler could only imagine that he was reading whatever had popped onto the screen, the text preview maybe.

“ _Josh_ ,” Byron suddenly spat, standing up and dropping the phone to the ground with a clatter, “Josh, Josh, _Josh_ , all he cares about is Josh and that stupid _cat_ ,”

Tyler found that his lungs had stopped and forced himself to keep breathing. He couldn’t afford to lose his breath and then gasp for more when he finally gave in. His blood was rushing in his ears but it felt far away. He was so attuned to Byron, to what he was doing and what he was saying, that nothing else mattered.

“I should just get _rid of them_ ,” Byron muttered, “But then he’d be _sad_ and he goes to _Bob_ when he’s sad, fucking _Bob_ ,”

He lashed out, kicking the bed’s leg hard enough to make the bed shudder and Tyler shoved his hand over his mouth to stop himself from yelling out in shock. He did shimmy farther back though, as if he could escape under the darkness of the frame and mattress. It scraped at his back, just slightly, and he froze again, too scared that he might accidentally make a noise to try to get anymore away than he was.

Byron stopped grumbling then, instead moved so he was standing in front of the closet, where a full-length mirror was hanging on the door.

“Sometimes you’ve got to bleed to know,” He said and then paused and cleared his throat again.

Tyler went back to pressing his face to the floor and just…breathing. He was practicing the poem he’d written. Tyler had been wrong. Tyler had been _wrong_ and he wished he could go back in time and punch himself in the face, make himself listen. The poem hadn’t been left over. The poem had been escalation. All sending Frank and Toro over had done was make Byron think he needed to _try harder_.

“Sometimes you’ve got to bleed to know that you’re alive and have a soul,” Byron dropped his voice, husky and Tyler assumed trying to sound alluring, “But it takes someone to come around to show you how. Though I’m weak and beaten down, I’ll slip away into this sound, the ghost of you is close to me...No, no, it’s wrong,” Byron groaned, turning on his heels in the same way he had that time in the kitchen, “It’s _wrong_ , how am I supposed to make him _see_ if I can’t _say it right_ ,”

 _Call me_ , Tyler begged, praying to every deity he could think of, sent every thought in his mind toward Bob, _Call me, call me, call me_ -

“I’m inside-out,” Byron said quietly, sitting back on the bed, “You’re underneath,” and he had _no idea_ how true that was, “Can you save my heavy…”

He reached down and Tyler’s breathing hitched when he caught a glimpse of his hand, knuckles bruised from how hard he’d been knocking last night, as he picked up Tyler’s phone and set it back on the table.

“Tyler,” Byron sing-songed after a pause, “Can you save my heavy, dirty soul?”

For a heartstopping moment, Tyler thought he’d been discovered.

When Byron slid off the bed and onto his knees, Tyler realized with such a shot of cold horror that it sent his vision gray, that he had.

“Tyler, are you _home_?” Byron asked quietly, one hand coming to rest on the ground, followed slowly by the other. “You weren’t supposed to be back until after four, Tyler.”

Tyler, his blood too frozen solid to let his body move, didn’t make a sound.

He could imagine what would happen when Byron saw he was there - stuck under the bed now, mostly naked, nothing to defend himself with. He closed his eyes, unable to see the moment Byron’s head popped under the bottom of the mattress, the moment he saw Tyler.

But then the front door handle began to rattle, the distinct sound it made when someone used a key, and Byron was off the ground and disappearing into the closet with a near soft, “ _Fuck_ ,”

He disappeared, closing the closet door shutting behind him, just as the front door opened downstairs.

“Hey, kitty!” A familiar voice - so familiar that it made Tyler’s heart _ache_ \- said and Tyler barely stopped himself from crawling out from under the bed and making a run for it. _Josh was home_.

“No, the car isn’t in the driveway so I don’t think he’s home…” Josh continued and he must have been on the phone, must have been talking to someone, “Hold on, let me check. Tyler!?”

He raised his voice, loud enough that it echoed and Tyler resisted the urge to yell back, still too scared to do more than lay still.

“Yeah, he must still be at work. He’s supposed to get off in a few minutes, though,” Josh said, voice going back to it’s normal volume but still growing closer. The second to top stair squeaked, Josh not used to the trick Tyler wasn’t even sure he’d mentioned, and then Tyler saw Josh’s shoes where Byron’s had been only a few minutes earlier.

“Thanks for dropping me off, by the way,” Josh sighed, and Tyler stared at his well-worn high tops as they walked into the room and to the sunspot Tyler had been sleeping in. Josh’s side of the bed also happened to be closer to the closet and Tyler found himself suddenly begging every deity he knew to, instead, get Josh to leave. _Go away_ , he thought as hard as he could at Josh, _Get out, get out, run away, Josh,_

Josh stretched and flopped onto the bed, the bounce hitting Tyler and Tyler moved his eyes to the closet - where he could still see the thinnest of strips of light brown from under the closet door. Byron, right there, watching. If Byron tried to leave, to come at Josh, Tyler didn’t know what he would do but - but he wouldn’t let Byron hurt Josh. Tyler had thought he’d been scared before - when it was just him - but having _Josh_ in the mix...his heart rate was through the roof, his blood rushing so loudly in his ears that he could barely focus on anything except watching Byron’s shoes, looking for any motion that showed that he was about to come out.

“Nah, I don’t think so,” Josh said, “I’m sure he’s okay, I just...I couldn’t do it, you know? I shouldn’t have left in the first place, what a dick move,”

He set back up and Tyler couldn’t help but hold his breath, body tense.

“I dunno, we just moved in and now this...what kind of shitty boyfriend doesn’t come home the _second_ they’re told, huh? After yesterday, I couldn’t do it anymore.” Josh sighed, standing up and retreating from the room. He continued talking to whoever was on the phone, probably Dewees if Tyler thought about it, back down the stairs - again hitting that step - and into what sounded like the living room.

It felt like an eternity after that, the sound of the television running downstairs, Byron’s boots not moving at all.

Finally, there was a soft “ _Motherfucker_ ,” from within the closet, and then a quiet grinding noise and a grunt of effort and Tyler wanted to beat himself over the head. The attic. The attic, the attic, the attic, Byron was in the attic.

He waited until the grinding noises had stopped, until he couldn’t see anything under the door except the dark of the closet, and then - as slowly and carefully as he could - he crawled out from under the bed. His joints and limbs were stiff, unwilling to move more than the bare minimum, but he was eventually standing and tiptoeing over to his phone, pulling it off the charger and slipping out of the room without bothering to grab any clothes. He skipped the second to top step, his lungs frozen solid, not daring to breath at all until he was at the bottom.

Josh was sitting on the couch, his back to the entryway and, not knowing how else to communicate without making noise, Tyler texted him from the hall.

‘ _Josh_ ,’ he started and then froze, unable to figure out what to say. He didn’t have _time_ for this though, Byron could be back down at any second, ‘ _I’m home dont make a sound just meet me in the kitchen_ ’

And then he hit send and waited until Josh’s phone vibrated before he went to the kitchen in search for Mr. Meow.

Josh, slowly, inched his way into the kitchen moments later, opening his mouth to say something. Tyler, arms full of his sleepy cat, shook his head as hard as he could until Josh’s mouth had closed and then he looked at the front door and Josh opened it and followed him out.

“Tyler,” Josh said when they were outside and Tyler set Mr. Meow inside the rental car Josh must have brought home with him before he launched himself into Josh.

Josh caught him easily, hugging him so tight Tyler couldn’t breath, but Tyler didn’t _want_ to do anything except hug him back and press his face into Josh’s shoulder, fall apart in Josh’s arms, where he was safe.

“Babe, you’re not wearing anything,” Josh pushed him away and pulled his sweatshirt off so he could shove it over Tyler’s head, “What the fuck happened? Why are we outside?”

“I-” Tyler started, shook his head, grabbed Josh’s hand and squeezed it, his voice still a near silent whisper, “Byron -”

“Byron?” Josh looked around, “What happened? Did he bother you again?”

Tyler, not knowing what else to do, unlocked his phone and called Frank.

“Officer Iero,” Frank answered and Tyler had seen him a few hours ago but his voice was - magic, Tyler thought. Frank would know what to do.

“Frank,” Tyler said, his voice cracking.

“Tyler?” Frank asked, the typing in the background going silent, “What happened?”

“He,” Tyler choked on a sob and hid his face in Josh’s shoulder, voice muffled by Josh’s shirt, “Frank, he’s in our attic.”

“He’s _what_ ,” Josh asked at the same time that Frank did. Josh wrapped his arms around Tyler tighter and Tyler honestly couldn’t tell if it was him shaking or Josh.

“I came home early and he -” Tyler’s breath hitched, “I hid, under the bed and then _Josh_ , oh God, Josh, I thought he was gonna hurt you, I -”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Josh soothed, rubbing his back, “It’s okay, we’re safe,”

“Is he still there, Tyler?” Frank asked, and he said something away from the phone, urgent and quick and then there were a few more loud noises as he, assumedly, moved from his desk.

“I think so?” Tyler shivered at the thought, “I don’t know, I don’t know if he knows I know or if he doesn’t know or if he’s hiding or if he left, I -”

“Calm down, Tyler,” Frank said firmly, “We’re on our way with a unit now. Are you and Josh safe?”

“I,” Tyler covered his face with his free hand in the hopes of chasing back the rising panic in his throat, trying to choke him out. He was okay, Josh was okay, the fucking cat was okay. “I think so? We’re in the driveway.”

“Get in the car,” Frank ordered, “Lock the doors, roll up the windows. We’ll be there as soon as we can be.”

“We need to get in the car, Josh,” Tyler repeated and Josh didn’t argue, just pulled Tyler to the car and opened the passenger door for him and pushed at Mr. Meow, who grumpily shifted and got comfortable in Tyler’s lap when he was forced to make room. Josh fell into the driver’s seat and locked the doors, made sure the windows were rolled up and then looked at Tyler, upset and confused.

“We’re in the car,” Tyler said and Frank grunted, the sound of tires squealing from his end of the line making Tyler’s heart skip a beat.

“Okay, we’re on our way.” Frank hesitated, “I need both hands to drive so I need to hang up now, but we’re going to be there soon, okay?”

“Okay,” Tyler nodded, voice small, and hung up.

He tossed the phone into the cup holder with a clatter and then finally looked at Josh, wiping at his watering eyes with one hand.

“Hi, honey, how was work?”

“Don’t bullshit me,” Josh said severely, but he still twitched a small smile, “What the fuck is going on?”

Tyler reached out for him, pulled him face first into a bruising kiss, and tried to separate himself from the last twenty minutes of his life.

Josh didn’t try to argue, pressed into the kiss just as fiercely, pulled Tyler until he was nearly off of his seat and in Josh’s lap and Tyler went with it until Mr. Meow got uncomfortable and hissed at them both, disappearing into the backseat.

Tyler laughed, a little hysterically, and Josh took his chance to squish Tyler’s face between his palms and force him to look straight at Josh’s face, “Tyler. What. The. Fuck. Is happening?”

Tyler closed his eyes and and leaned into the touch, sighing softly.

“I came home,” He decided to start, “Really early. I, um, I went to the police station early with Bob to file those reports and Byron had left a p-poem on the car at some point so we turned that in, too...but I came home and I decided to, like, take a nap, you know?”

Tyler hiccupped, suddenly overwhelmed with emotion, terror, and Josh hugged him again until he was calm enough to start again, the car steadily growing warmer and warmer the longer they were locked in together without cracking a window or something, “Bob and I had made like...it was _stupid_ , but it was all I could think to do, I put a broom in front of the back door so if someone opened it, the broom would fall and would let me know and it _fell_ and woke me up and it was _Byron_ ,” He took a deep, hard breath, “And I hid under the bed and he...Fuck, Josh, he just walked around the room and laid in _our bed_ like it was totally _normal_ and he talked about wanting to get _rid of you_ and - and he, on our _bed_ ,”

He was breathing too hard, he thought, too fast, so he took another break hiding in Josh’s shoulder while Josh rubbed his back and collected himself. “And then...then he was gonna find me, he was getting ready to look under the bed when you came home and s-scared him off but you came into the room and I was _so scared_ , I thought he was gonna hurt you, I -”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Josh said gently,  running a hand through Josh’s hair and it was better than any dreams he’d had in the last few days, familiar and fond and secure, completely _Josh_.

“He was in the closet the whole time,” Tyler whispered, “He was _watching you_ and I couldn’t warn you because then he’d know that I’d been there the whole time, and then you left and he went into the attic, oh God, Josh, what if he’s been up there the whole time?”

“We don’t know that,” Josh said firmly, “Tyler, we don’t know that, calm down, okay? Everything’s gonna be fine, the police are on their way.”

“He could have,” Tyler said and then had to stop because _he could have_ ended in so many horrifying ways that it made him dizzy with fear. “Josh, he could have -”

“But he didn’t,” Josh kissed him again, lighter, comforting when Tyler was reeling and looking for a place to land.

They didn’t talk for the rest of the wait, not until two police cruisers pulled up a few houses down, lights and sirens off, and Frank and Toro popped out of the front one.

Tyler and Josh met them halfway, Mr. Meow safe in the car with a back window cracked.

“Tyler,” Frank smiled at him carefully, not giving his boxers-and-sweater combo another glance, “You’re okay?”

Tyler, still hugging Josh, nodded slowly, “I’m okay. He’s...I don’t know if he’s still in there but, but in our closet in the master bedroom, it leads up to the attic.”

“We’ll take care of this,” Frank said, clasping his shoulder, “You guys can wait in the cruisers, if you want. You don’t have shoes on,”

“We’ll wait here,” Josh nodded and then, uncertainly, stuck his hand out, “Josh Dun, by the way. Tyler’s boyfriend.”

“Frank Iero,” Frank smiled, a little more relaxed, shaking his hand quickly, “Tyler’s police officer contact. This is my partner, Ray, and our backup, Jimmy and Steve. Now stay here, okay? Tyler, do you know if he was armed?”

“I don’t know,” Tyler shook his head, “But the poem…”

Frank nodded, hand going to the taser on his belt.

“Stay alert,” He ordered and headed for the house, taser drawn.

Josh and Tyler didn’t watch them go in. Steve let them settle into his cruiser, shut the door behind them, and followed his partner to the front lawn without saying much and Tyler gave in, looked and then couldn’t look away from the front door, focused the whole time.

Frank, Toro, and Jimmy all disappeared inside while Steve stayed behind to watch for a backdoor escape but it was actually through the window that Tyler watched the gangly form of Byron appear from. It was like a horror dream, Tyler would think later, watching the window that had meant to be painted shut pushed up and open with what appeared to be little effort from their vantage point and for Byron’s tall body to spider-crawl it’s way out of the attic and onto the bottom roof. Steve yelled something that they couldn’t hear, Byron yelled something back, waving a _meat cleaver_ around, and Tyler couldn’t watch anymore but he also couldn’t look away.

Frank appeared in the window while Byron’s back was turned, threatening Steve from on high, and pointed the taser at him with a warning.

Byron must have said something, made a move, because all at once he was shuddering, the knife falling from his fingers and onto the ground below. Byron nearly followed it, but Frank leapt out in time to catch and and yank him back from the edge and onto his back.

And, with that, Byron was in custody and Tyler found himself crying again, Josh’s arm curled around his shoulders.

-

There was a sleeping bag in the attic. Surrounding it were tens of pictures of Tyler - at work, in bed, at home, sleeping, cooking with his back turned, in the car, driving, with Bob, with _Josh_ on their second day together, during intimate moments between he and Josh over Skype. There were two piles of clothes - a few of Tyler’s things, all of which he’d thought he’d lost in the move, but most of it was Josh’s shirts that Tyler had thought he’d packed with him when he left. Next to the sleeping bag were a small collection of trinkets - a place where Tyler assumed the meat cleaver he’d been missing had been, a spoon and a bowl from the fine china that they never looked at, a fucking condom from the box Tyler kept in the bedside drawer - opened but unused, and the pepper spray Brendon had given to him nearly three weeks ago now. Next to the trinkets was a notebook, surrounded by empty cans of food.

“We’re gonna need to take all of this for evidence,” Frank said, having only allowed them into the attic after Steve had taken what Tyler could only assume were hundreds of pictures for how long they took, “But, if you _want_ , you can have a look. I...you won’t like it. I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“I have to,” Tyler said firmly, “Can I...Can I keep it? Give it back tomorrow?”

Frank frowned, thinking, “How about I stay an extra hour or two, Toro and I can finish up here and you two...Read what you need to read, okay?

“Tyler, are you sure?” Josh, who hadn’t stopped touching Tyler since Byron had screamed at him while being put into the cruiser, accepted the notebook from Frank when Tyler couldn’t do it.

“Yes.” Tyler still didn’t take the notebook. He left the attic once he was sure Josh had the book in hand, careful to avert his eyes from the bed - it was _ruined_ , he’d never sleep in it again - and Josh caught up quickly, Mr. Meow grumbling at them both when they entered the living room. The pain meds were keeping him pretty mellow, the only way Tyler could explain his acceptance of all the moving around, but he was finally done with them enough that he hobbled away when they set on the couch together, unwilling to come close on the off chance they tried to move him again.

“Do you want me to read first?” Josh offered but Tyler shook his head and shakily took the notebook from him, setting it in his lap and carefully opening it to the front page. It was blank. The next pages were also blank, aside from a page with _THAT BITCH LEFT ME_ written on it towards the middle of the notebook. It was only a few flips after that that words finally started to appear regularly.

“I saw an angel today,” Tyler read outloud, curled against Josh’s side and resting the book between the two of them so Josh could read to, “I gave him blueberries. She,” underlined, “left her pie recipe. I hope he likes it.”

The next page had notes from at least three separate pens, one a physical description of Tyler and another of Josh, the final one of all the tricks of the trade that came with living in the house. After that followed an organized account of Tyler’s every move over the last eighteen days - from the moment Josh drove away to the moment he left for work that very morning. Scattered throughout the detailed pages were confessions that turned Tyler’s stomach.

“I followed him home today,” He read out loud, “He was scared and ran and I followed him because I didn’t want him to be scared of me, not of what there could be between us. He had two people over, people who wouldn’t understand, so I waited until they were sleeping before I used the key to the backdoor. Tyler sleeps beautifully. He r-really is an angel. There was a shirt hanging in the closet when I went to the attic and I couldn’t resist taking it, wearing it. It belongs to Tyler’s boyfriend but I think he will like it on me more.”

“That’s enough,” Josh said firmly, “Tyler, stop reading this,”

“Josh,” Tyler shook his head, “I _need to know_ ,”

They kept reading.

Tyler did have to pause when they reached the part where Byron confessed to running Jon off the road, something he called a “bad thing” that he’d done when he’d lost control of his temper. He’d turned around a few streets later and taken the car home before walking to the cafe instead of driving. He’d given Tyler chocolates in apology.

There were numerous other break in’s described, too many for Tyler to handle. Descriptions of Tyler’s hair under Byron’s hand, how he looked sleeping. Pasted in pictures of Tyler on the bed. Fantasies. Increasingly unhinged plans to get rid of Josh or Mr. Meow or _Bob_. A whole page dedicated to Bob’s name written and then scribbled out and threats, plans on what the best time to attack would be or following him home, a pages long fantasy of what he wanted to do to Bob, to _Brian_ , for being around Tyler so much.

Toward the end of the book, more mentions of Josh started to show. Half-formed theories of what their relationship was like, thoughts on whether Tyler really loved Josh or not, on whether Josh loved _Tyler_ enough, if he was being appreciative enough. If Tyler would be broken up if something happened to Josh, too broken up to want to talk to Byron. His thoughts on their sex life, on how he thought Tyler would be in bed, if he would look the same for Byron as he did for Josh. Josh had to take the break then, close the book.

“Josh,”

“Give me a minute,” Josh said stiffly, staring straight ahead and he was doing that thing again, taking a moment to himself to pull the pieces back together. Tyler gave him his moment, just leaned into him and rubbed his arms and regretted ever letting things get this far. He should have been firmer with Byron, should have went to the police sooner, changed the fucking locks on the off chance that the last people that lived in the house _still had their key_.

When Josh was ready, they went back to looking through the pages.

The final page was written minutes before the police had shown up and chased him out of the attic, when he hadn’t known he’d been discovered but had known Josh was home.

 _Soon_ , he’d written, _Soon, he’ll be mine._

“Okay,” Josh closed the book, “It’s done. We’ve read it all. Are we done?”

“We’re done,” Tyler nodded, closing his eyes and shoving the book onto the coffee table. He twisted so he was closer to Josh and Josh clung to him, like he was the one that needed the comfort. Tyler had just forced him to read through Byron’s diary, so Tyler could see where he was coming from.

“Did I hear _done_?” Frank asked from the door and Tyler looked up from where he and Josh had curled together on the couch, Josh’s face hidden in his neck.

“Yeah,” Tyler smiled a little, “You can...you can take it. Take it all, okay? I don’t want any copies, I don’t want anything.”

“Hey,” Frank came over to pick up the notebook, “He’s in custody. We’ve got him for breaking and entering, squatting, stalking, malicious intent and possible attempted premeditated murder, this thing,” he waved the book, “Is a fucking signed confession all on it’s own. To top it off, we had to use force to arrest him because he was threatening police officers. He’s not getting away from the law, Tyler. If he doesn’t get a _long time_ behind bars, he’s not gonna be able to stay in the same fuckin’ city as you, let alone the same street. Byron won’t be coming near you again.”

“You’re sure?” Tyler rubbed Josh’s back and Josh shuddered, warmth on his shoulder enough to make Tyler’s eyes sting too, “You’re _sure_?”

“I’m so sure,” Frank tucked the notebook under his arm, “That I’d stake my life on it. It’s over, Tyler. I promise.”

“That’s what I said,” Tyler smiled, but he knew it came out weird.

“Just...try to go back to normal?” Frank glanced around, “It’s a nice house, you know? Don’t let him ruin it.”

“Too many windows, I think,” Tyler shook his head, “Too many columns. But...we’ll see.”

“That’s all you can do,” Frank said honestly and tipped his hat at them, “I’ll let you know if anything changes, okay?”

Tyler nodded and listened for the sound of the front door closing.

“I need to go lock the doors,” Tyler whispered into Josh’s pink hair and Josh pulled away quickly, wiping at his eyes. Their legs had tangled together on the cushions, facing each other, their voices whispers.

“Sorry,” He shook his head, “Sorry, sorry, _you’re_ the one who actually had to go through all of this - I’m just the asshole who wasn’t here -”

“Hey,” Tyler grabbed his hands and squeezed, brought them up to kiss his hands, “Josh, you saved my life today. You know? You fucking saved my life.”

“I should have been here,” Josh shook his head, “I should have come home the second you told me what was going on, I shouldn’t have waited until he got violent,”

Tyler pressed his face to Josh’s hands and laughed, a little hysterical with relief.

“Josh, babe,” He looked up, and felt lighter than he had since Josh had left, “Josh, it’s _over_ now. He’s in _jail_ and he won’t be back, not for a while. Let’s just focus on that, okay?”

Josh tried to smile and it was shaky and still a little scared and so was Tyler, but he felt - without a doubt - free of the dark dread that had been following him for weeks now.

They set on the couch, Mr. Meow on the coffee table, basking in the last rays of light. Bob would be calling soon and, when Tyler explained what happened, he and Brian would be over in minutes. The guys from the cafe would probably come by too, if only to make _sure_ that he was alright. They would all spend the night, Tyler and Josh in the guest room because there was no way Tyler was ever touching that mattress again, and then they might close the cafe for the day and maybe Brian would miss his meeting after all and they’d all eat breakfast and Tyler would feel as safe as ever.

For now, though, he set on the couch with his crying boyfriend, holding back tears himself - both of relief, happiness, and sick terror - and just appreciated that the only people in the house were each of them and the fucking cat.

“We’re okay,” He said out loud, because it felt like he could, “We’re okay, Josh.”

And, at least for now, they were.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Bandom Big Bang Complement 2017](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12503772) by [slashfanatic22](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashfanatic22/pseuds/slashfanatic22)




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